LIBRARY_OF CONGRESS. 

Shel£.__J?&_. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



E. P. ROE 




E. P. ROE AT THE TIME OF HIS DEATH. 



E. P. Roe 

Reminiscences of his Life 

By his Sister 

Mary A, Roe 




New York 

Dodd, Mead and Company 
1899 






ro 



1833 J 






Copyright, 1899 
By Dodd, Mead and Company 

TWO COPIES RLCE1VED, 



i 









5*fef of OVl' 






*£cowo copy, 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 






INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



OINCE the death of Edward Payson Roe, in 
^ 1888, there have been inquiries from time 
to time for some record of his life and work, and 
it is in response to these repeated requests that 
this volume is issued. While necessarily omitting 
much that is of too personal a nature for publica- 
tion, the editor has allowed the subject of these 
Reminiscences to speak for himself as far as pos- 
sible, although it has been thought advisable to 
introduce here and there various papers from 
outside sources that seem to throw additional 
light upon his character. It is believed that in 
this way a clearer picture may be given than 
would otherwise be obtained of the life of one 
who was, perhaps, the most popular American 
author of his generation. The editor's own part 
of the work has been confined to a simple state- 
ment of facts and to supplying connecting links, 



VI INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

when such seemed needed, between the various 
letters and papers. 

Thanks are due, and are hereby offered, to all 
who have kindly contributed material or in other 
ways assisted in the preparation of this volume. 



CONTENTS 



Chapter Page 

I. Boyhood and College Days i 

II. Life as Chaplain 13 

III. A Winter Camp 41 

IV. Marriage — The Raid toward Richmond 58 
V. Hampton Hospital 70 

VI. The Hospital Farm and Chapel ... 85 

VII. Pastorate at Highland Falls .... 95 

VIII. Resignation from the Ministry . . . 118 

IX. Fruit Culture and Literary Work . . 124 

X. Home Life 137 

XL Santa Barbara 154 

XII. Return to Cornwall — Letters ... 181 

XIII. Last Book — Death 194 

XIV. An Account of E. P. Roe's Books . . 218 
XV. The Tablet and Memorial Address . . 231 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



- E. P. Roe at the Time of his Death . . Frontispiece 

TO FACE PAGE 

V E. P. Roe as a Student 10 

E. P. Roe as Chaplain, age 26 38 

v View from the Piazza at " Roelands " . . . 128 
' The Study at "Roelands" 152 

V Tablet on Boulder in " Roe Park " . . . . 232 



E. P. ROE 

REMINISCENCES OF HIS LIFE 

CHAPTER I 

BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

MY brother Edward and I were the youngest 
of six children, and as he was my senior 
by but a few years we were playmates and almost 
inseparable companions in our childhood. 

We were born in a roomy old-fashioned house, 
built by my mother's father for his oldest son, but 
purchased by my father when he retired from 
business in New York. A more ideal home for 
a happy childhood could not easily be found. 
It stood near the entrance of a beautiful valley 
through which flowed a clear stream, and was 
wind-sheltered by high bluffs, yet commanded fine 
views of the mountains with glimpses of the Hud- 
son showing like lakes between them. 

What we called the " side-hill," back of the 
house, was our chief playground. My brother 
delighted in climbing the hickory and chestnut 



2 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

trees that grew upon it, and it was here in spring 
that we searched for wild flowers, from the little 
hepaticas just peeping above the snow, to the 
laurel in its full glory. In after years Edward 
never visited the old home without a tramp to the 
top of that side-hill or along the wood-road at its 
base. 

Our mother was always an invalid, and the 
housekeeper, Betsey Williams, who was a member 
of our family for many years, became like a second 
mother to us in her care and devotion. But she 
was no disciplinarian, and I have heard that when 
Edward was in a childish passion and she felt 
unable to cope with the situation she would pick 
him up bodily and carry him to my mother's 
couch. There he would sit beside her, not daring 
to move until he could promise obedience, held 
spellbound by the authority in her keen black eyes, 
though she was too weak to raise her hand to her 
head. 

Edward's love of nature was inherited from both 
father and mother. Often, on lovely June days, 
he would draw mother's wheeled chair through the 
broad walks of our large square garden, where the 
borders on either side were gorgeous with flowers, 
while I gathered and piled the fragrant blossoms 
on her lap until she was fairly embowered. Yet 
one scarcely missed those that were plucked. 



BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 3 

Back of the garden ran a clear brook, the over- 
flow from a spring of soft, cool water at the base 
of the side-hill, and in it we often played and tum- 
bled, soaking and soiling many a fresh clean suit. 

As is usually the case with younger sisters, I 
always followed my brother's lead, and one sum- 
mer day's adventure in particular stands clearly in 
my memory. We little children had started off 
with the avowed intention of looking for wild 
strawberries. We had secretly planned to visit the 
old house where my mother was born, which was 
some distance farther up the valley and at that time 
was unoccupied, but we thought it best not to 
make any announcement of this project in advance. 

Edward had heard that in the cellar there was a 
stone vault in which our Grandfather Williams 
kept the money that General Washington had en- 
trusted to his care until it was required to pay off 
the soldiers of the Revolution while they were en- 
camped near Newburgh. Edward was eager to 
visit the cellar, thinking that possibly there might 
still be a few coins left. We entered the empty 
house by a back door and wandered through the 
rooms, he entertaining me the while with stories 
mother had told him of her childhood there. 

Then we timidly groped our way down into the 
large cellar and found the stone vault — but it was 
filled only with cobwebs and dust ! 



4 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

When we came out and stood in the great 
kitchen Edward told me another Revolutionary 
story connected with the spot in our great-grand- 
mother's day. 

A company of British soldiers had been quar- 
tered upon the family, and the old kitchen swarmed 
with redcoats and negro servants, for those were 
still days of slavery in the North. Grandmother 
Brewster, who was a notable cook, had just 
placed in the heated brick oven a large baking 
of bread, pies, and cake. One of the soldiers 
asked her if they could have these good things 
provided they could take them away without her 
knowledge, but while she was in the kitchen. She, 
believing this impossible, said yes. He waited 
until everything was removed from the oven and 
placed upon a large table to cool. Suddenly a 
quarrel arose between several of the soldiers and 
one of her favorite colored boys. Fearing the lad 
would be killed she rushed into the midst of the 
crowd and at length succeeded in stopping the 
fight. When at last peace and quiet were restored, 
she turned round to find her morning's baking 
gone — and in a moment she understood the ruse 
they had practised upon her. 

As Edward talked the whole story seemed very 
real to us, but when he had finished we walked up to 
the old oven, and looking into its cavernous depths 



BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 5 

he said: " That' s here and the stone vault down 
cellar, but all those people are dead and gone. 
How strange and lonely it seems ! Let 's go." 

Then we hurried off to a field near by which we 
called " the rose-patch." Not far from this spot 
stood formerly an old mill where snuff was manu- 
factured, and the rose-bushes that in bygone days 
had yielded their blossoms to scent the snuff were 
still living and flowering. But among the roses 
was an abundance of wild strawberries, and the two 
children soon lost all thoughts of the past in their 
enjoyment of the luscious fruit. But the old de- 
serted house with its Revolutionary associations 
never ceased to have great attractions for us. 
Across the road from it, and nearer the creek, was 
a mound of cinders marking the spot where once 
stood the forge upon which our grandfather 
wrought the great iron chain which was stretched 
across the Hudson for the purpose of keeping 
British ships from sailing beyond it. Some links 
of this chain are now kept as relics in the Washing- 
ton " Headquarters " at Newburgh. 

In later years Edward planned to write a story 
entitled " The Fair Captives of Brooklyn Heights," 
embodying some incidents in the lives of our 
Grandfather Williams' sisters, who lived there 
with their widowed mother. During the Revolu- 
tion a number of British officers installed them- 



6 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

selves at her house, and the old lady promptly- 
locked up her daughters in order to prevent any 
possible love-making. One of the girls eluded 
her vigilance, however, married an officer, and fled 
with him to Canada. She returned after the war 
was over, but her mother, who had never forgiven 
the deception, refused to receive her, and she and 
her husband went to England to live. 

In our home at Moodna was always to be found* 
a generous hospitality. Among our most loved 
and honored guests was Dr. Samuel Cox, who was 
for many years a prominent clergyman in New 
York and Brooklyn. My father had been a mem- 
ber of his church and they were lifelong friends. 
Often, in summer, he and his family spent weeks 
at a time with us, and we children, as well as our 
elders, were always charmed listeners to his con- 
versation. He had a fine memory, and it was 
remarkably well stored with classic poetry. 
Sometimes he would entertain us with selections 
from the " Iliad," but more often, when other 
guests were present and Edward and I were seated 
on the piazza steps, on warm moonlight evenings, 
he would repeat whole cantos from " Marmion " or 
" Lady of the Lake," or perhaps some fine pas- 
sages from " Paradise Lost." 

At times the conversation would turn upon an- 
cient history, and I remember on one occasion he 



BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS J 

asked Edward and me if we could give him the 
names of the first Roman triumvirate. At this 
period of our existence the name "Caesar" was 
associated exclusively with an old colored man 
whom we often visited and who lived upon a 
lonely road which is still called " Caesar's Lane." 
We were vastly astonished, therefore, to learn that 
the name had ever been borne by any more illus- 
trious personage than our dusky friend. But we 
listened, entranced, while the doctor told of the 
rivalries and conflicts of those two great generals, 
Caesar and Pompey, for the empire of the world. 
He could not remember the name of the third 
triumvir, and it troubled him greatly. That night, 
about two o'clock, I was startled by a loud knock 
at my bedroom door, and Dr. Cox called out, 
" Mary, are you awake? " I replied that I was — 
as, indeed, was every one else in the house by that 
time. "It's Crassus," he said, then returned to 
his room greatly relieved that he had finally re- 
called the name. Edward and I never forgot our 
first lesson in Roman History. 

This learned clergyman was often very absent- 
minded. During one of his visits to us he had 
been for a drive with his wife and our mother. 
On their return he stopped at the horse-block, 
near where Edward and I were playing, threw 
down the reins, and, engrossed in some train of 



8 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

thought, walked into the house, utterly forgetful 
of the ladies on the back seat. They, very much 
amused, continued their conversation and waited 
to see if he would remember them. Finally, how- 
ever, as he did not reappear, Edward was called to 
assist them from the carriage and unharness the 
horse. Some time afterward the doctor rushed 
out of the front door and around the house, having' 
just remembered where he left the companions of 
his drive. 

The first school Edward and I attended was a 
private one for boys and girls kept by our eldest 
brother Alfred, in the village of Canterbury, two 
miles distant from our home. We trudged over 
the hills together on pleasant days and drove 
over when the weather was stormy. I well re- 
member the abnormal interest we felt in the 
health of an aunt of ours who lived near the 
school and who had some fine fruit trees on her 
place. After our inquiries in regard to her wel- 
fare had been answered she was sure to invite us 
to examine the ground beneath those trees, while 
the merry twinkle in her eyes showed appreciation 
of the fact that our devotion to her was not alto- 
gether disinterested. 

Of my brother's later school and college days, 
the Rev. A. Moss Merwin, now of Pasadena, Cali 
fornia, writes : — 



BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS Q 

" It was at Cornwall-on-the-Hudson I first met 
Edward, a fellow student in his brother Alfred's 
classical school. His face and manners were at- 
tractive, and intellectually he ranked high among 
his companions. Well informed as to current 
events, with a wider knowledge of books than is 
usual with young men of his years, and with great 
facility in expressing his thoughts orally and in 
writing, he commanded our respect from the first. 
And when we saw from time to time articles from 
his pen in the New York Evangelist descriptive of 
stirring events, our respect grew into admiration 
for him who was facile princeps in our small liter- 
ary world. Then as we came to know something 
of his kindness of heart and enthusiasm for the 
good and true we loved him. 

" His particular friends among the boarding 
pupils enjoyed the privilege of being invited occa- 
sionally to the hospitable home of his parents. 
What a home it was ! Abundant comfort without 
ostentation or luxury. The father a retired busi- 
ness man, kindly, philanthropic, and an ardent 
lover of plants and flowers. The mother an invalid 
in her wheeled chair, a woman with sunshine in 
eye and voice, of unusual intelligence, highly cul- 
tivated, with charming conversational powers. 

" In the little Presbyterian church near the 
school, planted mainly through the exertions of 



10 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

his father and elder brothers, there came a time of 
special religious interest when Edward was deeply 
impressed. With loving purpose he sought out 
two of his most intimate companions, and through 
his instrumentality they then began the Christian 
life. One became a successful business man in 
Chicago, and to the day of his death remembered 
with gratitude the helping hand and earnest words 
of E. P. Roe. The other friend remembers that 
soon after that decision, when he and Edward were 
walking through the grounds of the Friends' meet- 
ing-house, they covenanted together to study for 
the ministry. 

" We were together again preparing for college 
at Burr and Burton Seminary, Manchester, Ver- 
mont. How enthusiastic he was over the beautiful 
scenery of that now far-famed summer resort in 
the Green Mountains ! How delighted to send his 
father a present through his own earnings by saw- 
ing several cords of wood ! " 

About this time our father's property in New 
York City was destroyed by fire, and owing to the 
expense of rebuilding he was obliged for a time to 
practise close economy. But fortunately it was 
not found necessary to take any of his children 
from school or college. To quote Mr. Merwin 
further : — 

" At Williams College we saw much of each 




E. P. ROE AS A STUDENT. 



BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS II 

other. Roe was a fair scholar, more intent at get- 
ting at the meaning of the text, and its mythologi- 
cal and historical relations, than in making what is 
called a fair recitation. His ability as a writer and 
speaker was recognized early in his college course 
when elected speaker of his class at a Washington's 
Birthday banquet. Friends he easily made, and 
with many remained in pleasant relations to the 
close of his life. Trouble with his eyes caused 
him to shorten his course at college, but the au- 
thorities, in view of his subsequent success as a 
writer, gave him his diploma." 

My brother excelled in athletic sports in his 
youth, particularly in swimming and skating. On 
one occasion when he was home on vacation, he 
and a young companion were skating on the river. 
His friend, who was skimming along in advance of 
him, suddenly fell into an air-hole and sank out of 
sight. Edward instantly realized that if he went 
to the spot to rescue him, he also would break 
through. With quick presence of mind, therefore, 
he unwound a long worsted muffler from his neck 
and threw one end of it into the opening. As 
soon as the struggling boy rose to the surface, 
Edward shouted, " Take hold of that tippet and 
I '11 pull you out ! " His friend did as he was 
directed and Edward, by exerting all his strength, 
succeeded in drawing him out of the water and 



12 BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS 

upon the solid ice, fortunately not much the worse 
for his immersion. 

Adjoining our father's property was that of Mr. 
Nathaniel Sands, a " Friend " and a gentleman in all 
that the words imply, who was loved and respected 
by the whole community. His residence com- 
manded an extended view of the river and moun- 
tains and especially of the narrow Gap of the 
Highlands. At his death the old homestead be- 
came the summer residence of his eldest son, Dr. 
David Sands, the head of a well-known firm of 
druggists in New York. 

While my brother was at the theological semi- 
nary, and just about the beginning of the Civil 
War, he became engaged to Dr. Sands' second 
daughter, Anna. The young people had known 
each other from childhood, and this happy culmi- 
nation of their long friendship was not unexpected 
by either family. 



CHAPTER II 

LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

ONE of Edward's schoolmates at Cornwall, 
writing of him, said : " We met again on a 
most memorable evening in the early days of the 
war, when with two young ladies, one of whom 
became his wife, we rowed out on the Hudson 
River, under the shadow of Storm King, while the 
whole sky from west to east flamed with crimson- 
tinted clouds, that seemed a portent of the scenes 
to follow. When we reached the dock on our 
return the evening papers brought the details of 
the battle of Bull Run, fought on the previous 
day." 

I remember Edward's intense excitement on his 
return home that night, and his remark that if he 
were only through his seminary course he would 
join the army as chaplain. From that time I 
believe the purpose was constantly in his mind; 
and the next year, 1862, although his studies 
were not then completed, he became chaplain of 
the famous Harris Light Cavalry, under the com- 



14 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

mand of the gallant Kilpatrick, later Brigadier 
and Major General, who was always my brother's 
firm friend. 

The following testimony to Edward's work among 
the soldiers was written upon the field by a corre- 
spondent of the New York Tribune. 

" Chaplain Roe, of the Second New York (Harris 
Light) Cavalry, is a man whose praises are in the 
mouth of every one for timely and efficient ser- 
vices. He is always with the regiment, and his 
whole time is devoted to the temporal and spirit- 
ual welfare of the men. He is their friend, 
adviser, and counsellor, and commands the respect 
of all who know him — something that cannot be 
said of every chaplain in the army." 

The Observer of that year also published a letter 
written by a private in the Harris Light Cavalry to 
his parents. In it is found this reference to their 
chaplain. 

" To-day is Sunday, and, as a great exception, it 
has appeared like Sunday. This morning we had 
service at headquarters, the chaplain of our regi- 
ment officiating, and I think I can safely call him 
a pious army chaplain, which I cannot say of any 
others that /ever knew; and notwithstanding the 
little respect most chaplains have shown to them, 
and still less encouragement, this one, by his mild, 
gentle, manly, humble, and Christian-like de- 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 1 5 

meanor, has won the respect of all with whom he 
has had intercourse, from the most profane and 
vulgar to the most gentlemanly, which few chap- 
lains have been able to do. In a fight he is seen 
encouraging the men; in the hospital administer- 
ing to the soldier's wants, both spiritually and 
bodily. Last winter, during the worst days of a 
Virginia winter, I have seen him going from camp 
to camp, distributing his books and papers ; and 
with his own earnings he would buy delicacies 
that a poor sick soldier would otherwise in vain 
long for. These and other innumerable like acts 
have gradually caused every one to at least respect 
him, and some to love him. His name is Rev. E. 
P. Roe, Chaplain Harris Light Cavalry. I have 
been informed that he had just graduated when he 

came into the army. I think Dr. P may 

know him. I believe he is a Presbyterian. If you 
had any idea what a chaplain had to contend with, 
in order to lead a consistent life, you might then 
understand why I speak so of him. S." 

While with this regiment Edward acted as 
weekly correspondent for the New York Evan- 
gelist. A few of his letters to that paper are here 
reprinted, in the hope that they may still be found 
of interest. They are characteristic of the writer 
and give a clearer idea of his life at this time than 
can be obtained in any other way. 



l6 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

"Camp Hall's Hill, Oct. 15, 1862. 

" Messrs. Editors : — Till within a few days 
past we have been enjoying splendid weather, days 
as warm and sunny as those of June, and moonlight 
nights so clear and beautiful that one could sit at 
his tent door and read ordinary type with perfect 
ease and pleasure. Of course we improved such 
favourable weather and held our prayer-meetings 
nearly every night. I shall never forget one re- 
ligious service that we had last week. 

" As usual a large fire was kindled in front of the 
chaplain's tent, and the men, having disposed of 
their suppers, were beginning to assemble. Soon 
the musical " church-call " sounded to hasten the 
lagging ones, and by the time our exercises com- 
menced about two hundred were present. Our 
meetings are of a free and general character, 
open to all who are willing to take part in them. 
We commence by singing two or three hymns 
or patriotic songs in succession, the sound of 
music calling the men together. A prayer is 
then offered, after which I endeavor by some 
anecdote or illustration to force home the truth 
and necessity of a Saviour upon the minds of those 
present. The Christian members of the regiment 
then follow in prayer, singing, and exhortation, till 
we are dispersed by the roll-call. We have in- 
terruptions in this, our usual programme, of such 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 1 7 

a nature, and with such frequency, that we have 
great reason to be thankful and encouraged. 
They are occasioned by the stepping forth of 
soldiers in front of the fire who have hitherto 
been silent in our meetings, and who either ask 
the prayers of Christians that they may be led to 
the Saviour, or calmly and firmly state their in- 
tention to enlist under the banner of the Cross, 
and urge their comrades to do likewise. 

" Towards the close of the service I have men- 
tioned, three young men rose up together, and 
calmly and firmly one after another stated their 
resolution, with God's help, to live a Christian life. 
O that some of our cold, half-hearted professors 
could have been here then. Would to God that 
the voices of those young soldiers, as they urged 
with simple and earnest eloquence their comrades 
to come to the Saviour likewise, might be heard 
throughout all the churches of the North, and 
sound in every prayer-meeting, in our land. Such 
earnest tones and words would soon disperse the 
moral and religious apathy that seems to reign 
undisturbed in many localities, for they would 
prove that the Spirit of God was present. It was 
a scene that would have moved the coldest heart, 
and stirred the most sluggish nature. The starry 
sky, the full moon overhead flooding all the land- 
scape with the softest and most beautiful radiance, 



1 8 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

the white tents covering the hillsides, the large 
fire blazing fitfully up, surrounded by two hundred 
or more men who might readily be taken at first 
glance to be a band of Spanish brigands, all con- 
spired to make a picture that any artist would 
wish to copy. But as you listened to the words of 
those young men, and the earnest prayer and 
songs of praise that followed, all such fanciful 
thoughts of banditti and romance would melt away, 
and the strange, peculiar costume of those present 
would become simply the ordinary dress that the 
rude taste or necessity of the men during their 
campaign had led them to assume, and the dark- 
bearded faces, made still more sombre and sinister 
by the partial light, would resolve themselves into 
the bronzed honest features of our American sol- 
diers, now expressive of solemn thought and feel- 
ing. Never was a sound more unwelcome and 
discordant than the roll-call which broke up that 
assembly. 

" After the roll-call a group generally lingers 
around the fire, and I often find in it those who 
wish to be spoken with on the subject of religion. 
So it happened this night. A soldier chanced to 
be passing by our encampment, and, attracted by 
the sound of music, stopped at our meeting. A 
few days before he had received a letter from 
home stating that his mother was very ill and not 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 1 9 

expected to live many days. He knew he should 
never see her again, and his heart was tender and 
sad. Thus prepared for the truth by the Provi- 
dence of God, his steps were directed to us, and 
as he sat there and listened to those three young 
men as they stated their resolution from thence- 
forth to serve God, he too resolved to be a Chris- 
tian, and has since found peace in believing. I 
told him how our prayer-meeting had been started 
by two or three Christian soldiers meeting openly 
for prayer, and that the same happy state of things 
might be brought about in his regiment in a simi- 
lar manner. He promised that the prayer-meeting 
should be commenced. 

" The 1 8th of this month (October) was as beau- 
tiful and bright a Sabbath morning as ever dawned 
on Virginia. Though the day and all nature spoke 
of peace, yet men would not hearken, for it was 
soon evident that our brief repose was again to be 
broken. The Third Division of cavalry was en- 
camped on the northwestern edge of the old Bull 
Run battlefield. The day before we occupied 
the battlefield itself. The earlier part of the day 
was spent by the different regiments in preparing 
to march, and by noon the concentration of the 
entire command began. Distant outposts, regi- 
ments on picket, and scouting parties were drawn 
in, and soon after the battle-flags of General Kil- 



20 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

patrick, General Davies, and General Custer were 
seen fluttering through forests or over hills in the 
direction of the Warrenton and Alexandria pike. 
Following them were long lines of cavalry and 
artillery, and above all, a bright October sun that 
gave to the scene anything but the grimness of 
war. As evening approached we came out on 
Warrenton pike. General Davies' brigade had the 
advance, and part of the Harris Light Cavalry 
was thrown out as skirmishers. It soon struck 
the enemy's pickets, and then a running fight was 
kept up until within a short distance of Gainesville. 
Our flying artillery took advantage of every high 
position to send a shell shrieking after the enemy. 
It was now dark night. The head of our column 
had advanced up within a short distance of the 
point where the railroad crossed the pike before 
entering the village. For a short time there had 
been an ominous silence on the part of the rebels, 
and it became necessary to send forward part of 
the Harris Light Cavalry to find what had become 
of them. The detachment moved on to cross the 
railroad embankment, when suddenly, from over 
its top, at a given signal, a line of fire at least 
three hundred yards long flashed out into the 
night, and a perfect storm of bullets rained over 
their heads. Fortunately the enemy fired too 
high to do much execution, and only a few were 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 21 

wounded. Our boys returned the volley, and then 
retired to a small piece of woods, and for a time a 
hot skirmish was maintained. Having no knowl- 
edge of the force that might be concealed in the 
place, and the position being too strong to be car- 
ried by a night assault, further operations were 
deferred till morning. The 1st Virginia were left 
on picket close to the enemy and the rest of the 
command fell somewhat back and went into camp. 
" To one not familiar with army life in the field, 
our mode of encamping that night would have 
been extremely interesting and suggestive. We 
were in the face of the enemy, which is no place 
for careless security. Each brigade was placed by 
itself, supporting the batteries which were put in 
position ready to be used at a moment's notice. 
The horses of each regiment were drawn up in 
ranks and tied to stakes driven into the ground for 
the purpose. Each man slept at the head of his 
horse, which he kept saddled, and part of the time 
bridled. Within three minutes the entire division 
could have been out in line of battle. I have 
known our regiment to saddle their horses, lead 
out from the woods, form ranks, count four and 
stand ready to charge into anything that might 
oppose, within just three minutes by the watch. 
In the rear of this warlike array the ammunition 
wagons and ambulances were parked in regular 



22 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

order, the team horses standing ready harnessed. 
Thus Kilpatrick's little righting division lay there 
that night like a panther crouched ready to spring. 
During the night wagons came up with rations, 
which were soon distributed. The groupings 
around the fires, after this, were picturesque in 
the extreme. Some of the men, shrouded in their 
great military overcoats, stood quietly warming 
themselves, throwing out immense shadows that 
stretched away till lost in the surrounding dark- 
ness. The dusky forms of others might be seen 
passing to and fro in the preparation of their rude 
meal of fried pork and hardtack, while the flicker- 
ing blaze revealed the burly forms of a still greater 
number reposing upon the ground in all varieties 
of attitude. At last the entire division, except the 
vigilant pickets and sentinels, was wrapped in 
slumber. At four o'clock the bugle sounded 
reveille, and the camp was soon all astir. Soon 
after we saw a flash in the direction of the enemy, 
and listened breathlessly a moment for the report 
of rebel cannon, but the long interval and distant 
heavy rumble that followed satisfied us that a 
storm other than that of war was about to break 
over us ; and soon it came, with high cold winds 
and drenching rain. As we cowered around our 
smoking, dying fires in the dim twilight of that 
wild October morning — ah! then we thought of 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 23 

being tucked away in snug feather-beds under the 
old roof-tree at home ; but there was no repining, 
though we all knew that on the coming night 
many would sleep colder than ever before — so 
cold that nothing but the breath of God could 
give warmth again. 

" But we were not long left to reflection of any 
kind, for regiment after regiment now began to 
take position upon the line of march. General 
Custer's brigade had the advance. Soon scatter- 
ing shots and an occasional boom of a cannon told 
us that we had again found the enemy. But no 
stand was made until we reached Broad Run, and 
there the firing became rapid and sharp. Our 
brigade now came up and was placed in posi- 
tion, and the battle became general. Every now 
and then a shell would whiz over our heads and 
explode, inspiring anything but agreeable emo- 
tions. Several charges were made on both sides. 
I wonder if it is possible to give any idea of a 
rebel charge. Their cries and yells are so pecu- 
liar, so wild, shrill, feverish, so ghastly (I had 
almost said ghostly), for the sounds seem so un- 
real, more like horrid shrieks heard in a dream 
than the utterances of living men. The shouting 
of our men is deeper and hoarser, and partakes 
more of the chest tone in its character, but the 
rebels charge with a yell that is something be- 



24 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

tween the shriek of a woman and the scream of a 
panther. At times you can close your eyes and 
imagine that some fierce conflict of another age is 
passing before you in a dream, so strange and un- 
natural does it seem to see men engaged in mortal 
combat. We finally dislodged the enemy from 
their very strong position and advanced across 
Broad Run. General Custer took a strong position 
on a hill above the stream, while General Davies 
was ordered with his brigade to advance as far as 
possible toward Warrenton, for General Kilpatrick 
had received written orders to move out as far as 
he could upon this road in order to discover the 
force and intentions of the enemy. The surgeons 
and ambulances halted in a field between the two 
brigades. I stayed with them, and was trying to 
get a feed for my horse, which was evidently begin- 
ning to feel the effects of long marches and short 
rations, when suddenly I heard firing nearly oppo- 
site us, on our left flank. At first I thought it 
was a mere skirmish with some rebels left in the 
woods and discovered by our men; but the firing 
became more rapid every moment, and soon Gen- 
eral Custer's battery began to shell the woods 
most vigorously. I saw that the woods were full 
of men, but could not distinguish ours from the 
rebels. Two or three aids galloped by in the 
direction General Davies had taken. 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 25 

" One remarked in passing, with an ominous look 
and shake of his head, ' You had better be getting 
out of here/ which was not a very comforting 
suggestion to those who had no orders to ' get 
out of here ' or where to get to. It was very evi- 
dent that something was wrong, and that matters 
were getting serious. Wagon and ambulance 
drivers, surgeons and their attendants, contrabands 
with their led horses — in short, all of us — were like 
a covey of startled quails, their heads up, aware of 
danger, but not knowing which way to fly. We 
could not very well show fight, for a charge by 
a wagon train would be almost as great a 
novelty as General Kilpatrick's attacking gun- 
boats with cavalry, which he actually did last 
summer on the Rappahannock, and destroyed 
them, too. But we, not at all envious, were glad 
to receive orders to retrace our steps ; for nothing 
is so uncomfortable for a soldier as to hear firing 
in his rear. We were proceeding leisurely and in 
good order, when an orderly rode rapidly up to 
our front and turned us off on a by-road through 
the woods, with an injunction to move rapidly and 
come out on the main pike near Gainesville. 
Away we went in the direction of Thoroughfare 
Gap, the wagons banging and bouncing over 
stones and stumps, through streams and mud- 
holes, as we followed the sinuosities of a narrow 



26 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

wood-road which finally led into the open fields. 
Here I felt like crying and laughing both — crying 
with rage at what I then considered our disgrace- 
ful retreat; but when I afterwards learned what 
odds we were contending against, I was satisfied 
that the best generalship was displayed in rapid 
retreat. And gravity itself would have laughed 
at the figure we cut. Contrabands and camp fol- 
lowers were careering by in all states of panic. 
Many had lost their hats in coming through the 
woods, and it seemed in some cases now that their 
wool fairly stood upon end, while they, rolling 
their eyes over their shoulders in the direction of 
the enemy, exhibited only their whites to the 
observer in front. Here might be seen an unfor- 
tunate darkie hauling on a stubborn mule that with 
its wonted perversity wanted to turn around and 
run the other way; there a man trying to raise a 
horse that had fallen with him ; while ' Git up, dar ; 
git up, I tell yer/ resounded from every side. 
Some poor mules and some led horses fairly got 
frantic, for what with the beating they received, 
and with tin kettles rattling and captured chickens 
cackling between their legs, it was enough to dis- 
tract any brute; so they kicked and floundered 
till they burst their girths, and galloped away re- 
joicing in their freedom. But the comic was soon 
lost in the tragic. The pursuing enemy was now 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 27 

closing upon us from all sides. The rear guard, 
which was the Harris Light Cavalry, made many 
a gallant stand, but what could a few men do 
against twenty times their number? With many 
it became a sad race for life and liberty. But 
before dusk we had the satisfaction of effectually 
checking the enemy. For the first time in my 
life I found myself rallying a body of men in a 
fight. Officers and men coming in rapidly, we 
soon had a respectable line formed and the 
enemy's advance was now decidedly checked. 
Captain Elder, who had brought off all his guns in 
safety, planted them on an eminence, and soon 
they were thundering defiance to the baffled 
enemy. Shell after shell screamed over our heads 
and exploded. Soon after a part of the First 
Corps came up, formed a line of battle, and re- 
lieved our thinned and wearied ranks. We retired 
to the friendly shelter of a neighbouring forest, and 
that deep sleep which follows great excitement 
and exertion quietly stretched us out as motion- 
less and unconscious seemingly as the lifeless 
forms of our brave comrades that lay cold and 
stark along the line of our bloody retreat." 

" Many changes and much marching and coun- 
ter-marching have taken place since the soldiers of 
the Harris Light Cavalry gathered nightly under 



28 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

the old apple tree, or in front of the chaplain's 
tent, during the warm moonlight evenings of Sep- 
tember and October. The rich autumn foliage 
that then made even poor old desolated Virginia 
look beautiful has dropped away, and stern win- 
ter, rendered all the more grim and forbidding by 
the ravages of war, now reigns supreme. Many 
of our number, also, like the leaves, have dropped 
away. Some, having obtained and squandered 
their bounty, have treacherously deserted and 
sneaked away like thievish hounds. The bullet, 
accident, and sickness have each conspired to 
lessen our number, and many a noble-hearted fel- 
low who was always first and foremost in all a 
soldier's duty is now languishing in some hospital, 
or sleeping beneath the sod that last sleep from 
which no bugle call shall waken him. 

" It seems as if God was teaching us to look to 
himself, and not to men, for among those that 
sickness has for the present removed from our 
number were three who were the very stay and 
central pillars of our regimental church. Espe- 
cially do I feel the loss of Brother Farber, who 
was as noble a specimen of a Christian soldier as 
it has ever been my fortune to meet. Uniting 
culture of heart and mind with a happy disposi- 
tion, a shrewd and quick perception of character, 
and a manner that made him popular with all, he 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 29 

was just such an ally as the chaplain needed in 
the ranks. Though he made his religion respected 
by all, he also made it attractive, and his society 
was not shunned, even by the wildest spirits of the 
regiment. His cheerful smile and words were 
better than medicine in the hospital, and I almost 
always found him there when off duty. Nearly 
two months ago he left us for a hospital in Wash- 
ington, sick with the typhoid fever, contracted 
doubtless by over-fatigue in his care of the sick 
and bodies of the deceased, and by breathing air 
tainted with disease. I have since received a 
letter from him stating that he was very sick, and 
that the surgeon said it would be months before 
he could join the regiment again, if ever. For 
aught I know his warfare may now be over and he 
at rest, for I have received no answer to my reply 
to his letter. Brothers Vernon and Stillwell are 
also away sick. Only pastors, and they not fully, 
can realize the loss that such men are to a chap- 
lain. He has so few capable, warm-hearted co- 
adjutors in a regiment as a general thing. There 
is such a torrent of evil influences rushing in on 
every side, that he sorely feels the need of men 
possessing firm and established Christian charac- 
ters, who would quietly and consistently stand up 
for, and live religion on all occasions. Here he 
has none of the conventionalities and restraints of 



30 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

society to aid him, and even the heavenly influ- 
ence of Christian parents, of pure sisters, and lov- 
ing wives is weakened by distance, absence, and 
sin. But in grappling with the many and power- 
ful demoralizing influences and vices of camp life, 
one soon learns that but little can be accomplished 
except by the direct aid and interposition of the 
Holy Spirit, for nothing short of the grace of God 
can enable the soldier to resist the evil that assails 
him on every side. 

"While I was on a brief business visit to the 
North, the regiment had joined the advance, and 
on my return I found it out in the neighborhood 
of Warrenton. After waiting a few days in what 
remained of our old camp, I found an opportunity 
of going out to the front with Captain Cook, of 
our regiment, and a small squad of men. The ride 
out to Rappahannock Station, where our regi- 
ment was last heard from, was full of novelty 
and interest to one who had never been on a 
long march before. Captain Cook is a gentle- 
man as well as a good soldier, and his familiar- 
ity with the historic region through which we 
passed made him an exceedingly agreeable com- 
panion. The evening of the second day of our 
journey, which was Sunday, found us considerably 
beyond Manassas. A dismantled house stood on 
the brow of a hill in a grove some distance from 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 3 1 

the road. We rode up to it and concluded to 
spend the night there. Though it was half ruin- 
ous, without windows and doors, and the floor 
covered with rubbish of every description, but a 
few moments sufficed to make it sufficiently com- 
fortable for a soldier's purpose. A fire blazing 
on the hearth, the rubbish cleared away, a blanket 
hung over the windows and doors, made our night 
quarters complete. Then gathering around the 
fire, each broiled his slip of bacon on the end of a 
stick, and enjoyed this rude repast far better than 
many a well appointed banquet in the North, for 
1 hunger was our sauce.' After supper we had, as 
it were, family prayers. The old dilapidated man- 
sion, the costume, arms, and varied expressions of 
the soldiers as they lounged around listening to 
the Word of God, all brought into view by the 
flickering blaze that roared within the chimney, 
made a scene that any artist might wish to copy. 

" After marching all the next day we joined our 
wagon train at dusk, near Rappahannock Station, 
and found that we were just in time, for the whole 
army was on the move to Fredericksburg. Join- 
ing the train, I marched half the night with them 
in the darkness and rain. As there was no shelter 
near, the next day was spent in the rain under a 
tree ; and an attack on the wagon train being ex- 
pected on the following night, my slumbers were 



32 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

neither very sound nor long continued. But such 
is the wonderful vitality that life in the open air 
gives, that one soon recovers from loss of sleep 
and fatigue. Our regiment moved down to 
Brook's Station, where it remained doing picket 
duty till it joined the advance on Fredericksburg. 

" Our brigade, with our beloved and lamented 
General Bayard in command, was drawn up on a 
hillside preparatory to marching, and I assure 
you that the long lines and dense masses of cav- 
alry made a splendid and imposing appearance. 
It was nearly night before we filed off towards 
Falmouth. The night was dark and misty and 
the roads broken and wild. Sometimes we would 
plunge down into a deep gully, at others scramble 
up the slippery and frozen sides of a steep hill. 
Every now and then horse and rider would be 
down, to the great merriment of all witnesses. 
But the joke became too serious when a horse fell 
and broke one poor fellow's leg. 

" Seen through the mist and darkness, the long 
extended column, winding among the broken hills, 
now coming out in bold relief on the brow of one 
of them, and then descending again into the valley 
or the gloom of some forest, had a shadowy and 
phantom-like appearance, and seemed more like a 
procession in a dream than a goodly number of 
well armed troopers on a march. Especially was 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 33 

this spectral effect heightened when a distant part 
of the column would pass within the lurid glare of 
some brilliant camp-fire. After floundering through 
streams and quagmires, and filing through gorges 
that reminded one of the old Indian ambuscades, 
we turned off into a forest to encamp for the night. 
Selecting a tree from under which the snow had 
partially melted away, a few of us built a fire, then 
spread our blankets and slept on the ground in 
the clear, frosty starlight as well as on the softest 
couch our limbs had ever pressed. Long before 
daylight, the bugle sounded ' boots and saddles,' 
and the woods soon resounded with the customary 
martial clamor of an encampment. 

" Suddenly every sound was hushed, for the dis- 
tant boom of the two guns that opened the battle 
of Fredericksburg broke upon our ears. The 
silence was succeeded by wild shouts of enthusi- 
asm, and soon we were on our way to the scene of 
action. The sharp rattle of musketry now began 
to mingle with the report of cannon. As we ap- 
proached the river the roar of the artillery was 
truly grand and awful. I can only compare it to 
a very violent thunder-storm, wherein you hear, at 
one and the same time, the rumble and mutter of 
some peal dying away in the distance, the heavy, 
jarring roll more near, and the loud stunning ex- 
plosion from the flash overhead. Our cavalry was 

3 



34 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

crowded on a plain in the rear of our batteries. 
We did not know that the rebels were not replying 
to our guns, and expected every minute they would 
get our range. As we remained undisturbed, I 
concluded that our distance from the river was 
much greater than I had first supposed; but 
when the order came to march, and we filed off, 
by twos, down towards the river, past our batteries, 
I expected every moment to see the head of our 
column broken and shattered by shot and shell. 
I have heard much about " lazy soldiers and large 
pay," but I thought at that time that the soldier 
who marches steadily and determinedly forward 
on such occasions earns in five minutes all the 
pay he ever gets. But the heavy cannonading was 
only from our own guns, for the rebels were re- 
serving their fire. We soon found that our orders 
were not to cross, but to go down the river and do 
picket duty on the extreme left flank. As we 
marched along, a shell from one of our batteries 
on a hill above me passed directly over my head. 
As it hissed by, it gave me an idea of the infinitely 
short space of time in which many of our poor 
boys are dashed into eternity. 

" The early dawn of Saturday morning saw us re- 
turning to the battlefield. About nine o'clock we 
mounted the hill, and formed upon the plain on 
the opposite side of the river. As we were taking 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 35 

our position, I heard a whizzing sound, and saw 
the earth torn up by a solid shot quite near me. 
They soon screamed over our heads and fell all 
around us; but, as a general thing, the enemy 
fired too high. A few hundred yards to our front, 
the shells were bursting constantly. We remained 
on the plain all that day and night, the fire in front 
of us sometimes slackening, and sometimes ceasing 
altogether. We often cast anxious glances at some 
rebel batteries quite near us on the right, and often 
wondered why they did not open upon us, for if 
they did, they could have swept us from the plain 
in a few moments. Either our batteries occupied 
them, or they reserved their fire for some purpose. 
A little after noon, we heard that General Bayard, 
our division commander, was mortally wounded. 
Soon after word came that cavalry was needed. 
Two regiments of the enemy were running, it was 
said, and the Harris Light Cavalry was wanted to 
follow them up. Off dashed our men in close 
column, at full gallop, to the place designated, the 
surgeon and myself going to the hospital to pre- 
pare for our wounded. As we started, the road 
over which the regiment had just passed, and 
directly in front of us, was torn up by a solid shot. 
Whose earnest prayers were heard that day, and 
the Harris Light Cavalry saved from almost a 
massacre? The order for cavalry had to pass 



36 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

through three different hands before it reached us, 
and by the time our men arrived at the spot it was 
discovered that the enemy's retreat was only a 
feint, and that batteries were so arranged as to 
place the party who should follow them between 
two fires. Our regiment approached near enough 
to the trap, and were exposed to a sufficiently hot 
fire, for a few minutes, to be satisfied that if they 
had charged, as was intended, but few would have 
returned. 

" At the hospital we found poor Bayard. Of all 
the ghastly wounds I saw that day his was the 
most awful. It needed but a glance to see, as he 
calmly stated to those who visited him, " that his 
days on earth were numbered." If his wound had 
been a mere scratch, he could not have been more 
cool, quiet, and collected. He talked calmly of his 
death as of a settled thing, and only inquired par- 
ticularly how much time he had left on earth. He 
was told, * perhaps forty-eight hours.' He did 
not live twenty-four. My heart sank within me as 
he gave me his hand in farewell, and I almost 
murmured, 'Why are the best taken?' The 
large house to which the wounded were brought 
was now filled with mutilated and dying men. 
Cries and groans resounded from every apartment. 
Ghastly and bloody wounds met the eye in every 
direction. Some had their eyes shot out; the 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 37 

tongues of some were swollen out of their mouths ; 
some had their bodies shot through ; others were 
torn and mangled by shell and solid shot, and all 
were crowded wherever there was any space. The 
surgeons were hacking off limbs and arms by the 
dozen. The odor of blood was oppressive. One 
man called me to him, thinking I was a surgeon, 
and said that one of his wounds had been dressed, 
but he found that he had another, which was bleed- 
ing rapidly. Another poor fellow held up his arm 
to me, with a great bulging hole in it, and asked 
with an expression of pain and anxiety that I could 
scarcely endure, whether I thought he would have 
to lose it? Such is the horrid reality of war behind 
the painted scenes of honor, glory, and romance. 
However cold an ear the poor fellows may have 
turned to the story of the Cross when in health, as 
a general thing they were ready enough now to 
listen to the offers of mercy. One wounded boy 
had his leg taken off just as he was entering the 
hospital, which building was under fire all day, and 
was repeatedly struck. The scene from the win- 
dows of the hospital was truly splendid as night 
came on. Innumerable camp-fires gleamed from 
the hillsides, and occasionally the darkness was 
lighted up by the flash of cannon. But weariness, 
and the knowledge that our own regiment might 
be engaged the next day, caused me to seek a 



38 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

place of rest. The medical department of our 
brigade had been rendered small by the absence 
of some of its members, and it might be that our 
duties on the morrow would be very arduous. 
The ground outside the hospital was so tramped 
up, muddy, and filled with horses, that it was im- 
possible to sleep there. But there was a stone 
alley-way under the hospital, filled with tobacco in 
the leaf, part of it lying on the ground, and part 
drying overhead. One end of this place was 
already filled with wounded men, but the surgeon 
in charge said that the other would not be occu- 
pied before morning, and that I had better stay 
there. As a light came I saw something white 
lying near the wall. I first thought it was a dog, 
and going up, I stirred the object with my foot. 
On looking closer, I found that it was a ghastly 
pile of arms and legs from the amputating-room. 
But I had seen so much of blood and horror dur- 
ing the day that I had grown callous. I quietly 
spread my blanket within ten feet of the bloody 
heap, and listened sadly to the shrieks and groans 
from the hospital above till I fell asleep. The re- 
opening of the battle on Sunday morning awoke 
me, and as I was rolling up my blankets, a shell 
bursting near warned me to hasten. I joined the 
regiment, and with it recrossed the river. We 
have since been doing picket duty on the Rappa- 
hannock. 




E. P. ROE AS CHAPLAIN, AGE 26. 



LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 39 

" Many a careless, light-hearted soldier wore an 
anxious, troubled look that day, as we stood facing 
the rebel batteries, and many a loud-mouthed, 
coarse, swearing fellow was quiet and pale. But I 
saw no flinching or skulking. You at the North, 
who cosily read about battles in an arm-chair, know 
little of a man's sensations who stands in front of 
the enemy's guns. He hears shot and shell scream 
and explode over and around him. Before him 
arises the sulphurous smoke of the conflict. From 
out of that obscurity he knows that at any moment 
some swift messenger of death may be speeding 
on its way to his heart. He thinks of unfinished 
plans, of bright prospects and hopes for the future. 
His home, its beloved inmates, and the forms and 
features of those friends that hold the chief places 
within his soul rise up before him, and he knows 
that at any moment he may be snatched from all 
these, and lie a mangled, bleeding corpse upon the 
ground. And then come graver and still more 
solemn thoughts of the shadowy world beyond, 
and ' conscience, which makes cowards of us all/ 
awakes. In the mad excitement and tumult of a 
charge, everything is forgotten. When patiently 
standing under fire, everything is remembered, 
and this, of all that the soldier has to do and en- 
dure, is the most difficult and dreaded." 

An occasional amusing incident would occur, 



40 LIFE AS CHAPLAIN 

however, to relieve the gloom of these tragic times. 
I remember hearing my brother tell of one that 
took place while crossing a narrow pontoon bridge. 
A mule, ridden by a contraband, and having a num- 
ber of kettles strung on one side of the saddle and 
on the other some chickens that had been captured 
from henroosts along the march, suddenly became 
stubborn when about half-way across the bridge, 
and resisted all efforts on the part of his rider to 
make him move on. He was blocking the way for 
the whole troop. An officer, seeing the situation, 
shouted the order : " Charge mule ! " Instantly 
half a dozen men rode up and with the points of 
their sabres convinced the animal of the necessity 
for a speedy advance. He started off at a dead 
run, scattering the rattling kettles and squawking 
hens by the wayside, the poor contraband holding 
on with arms clasped around the mule's neck, 
while the troopers followed in wild pursuit, amid 
shouts and laughter. 



CHAPTER III 

A WINTER CAMP 

THE following letters were written from the 
winter quarters of the regiment on the 
Rappahannock, and explain themselves. 

" In this letter I merely propose to give some 
glimpses of camp life. When the army lay quiet 
for two or three weeks after the battle of Fred- 
ericksburg, we began to think of winter quarters ; 
so one fine morning our whole division started out 
in search of a desirable locality. In some respects 
it was a rather novel expedition. We were seek- 
ing a place that would probably be our home for 
months ; and I assure you, as we marched along, 
that unknown spot of ground became to us an 
object of no small anxiety and interest. Those 
officers who had designs on Washington, rather 
than Richmond, hoped it would be near the steam- 
boat landing on the Potomac. Many wishes were 
expressed that wood would be plenty and con- 
venient; for winter quarters without wood is an 
impossibility. Speculations were indulged in re- 
gard to the locality and soil, whether it would be 



42 A WINTER CAMP 

a dry, sheltered little valley, or a bleak cornfield 
capable of all degrees of mud. The place of en- 
campment selected for our regiment was appar- 
ently the latter. I must say that many of us were 
not very enthusiastic about the position, and we 
could not feel indifferent, for our comfort and per- 
haps health depended on the suitableness of the 
place. 

" Imagine yourself, my reader, riding into a large, 
bleak, hilly cornfield, the stalks still standing, with 
your whole personal property in this region of the 
world strapped behind you on the saddle, your 
horse sinking at every step fetlock deep in the 
soft, spongy soil, and being coolly told to make 
yourself comfortable here for the winter. Prob- 
ably you would feel as we suppose the Israelites 
did when required to make bricks without straw. 
But necessity and experience have taught the sol- 
dier many lessons, and he knows well how to 
make the best of everything. In a few minutes 
the long picket lines are uncoiled and stretched 
from post to post inserted for the purpose. To 
these the horses are tied and then unsaddled. 
The little shelter tents range themselves, as if by 
magic, in long rows between them, and within a 
half-hour or so the place begins to assume the 
appearance of a well laid out encampment. 

" But this is merely temporary, and the building 



A WINTER CAMP 43 

of regular winter quarters is next in order. The 
size and character of the huts being left to the 
fancy and ingenuity of each individual, there is, 
with much apparent sameness, a great deal of 
diversity and originality to be observed. The 
most simple is merely a ' dug-out,' as it is termed. 
A hole is dug six or seven feet square, and from 
two to four feet deep, and over this is placed the 
tent. The floor and sides are lined with boards if 
they are to be had, otherwise round poles and rails 
answer the purpose. Opening into this ' dug- 
out ' is a small trench two or three feet long, wide 
at its mouth, and narrowing towards the end 
farthest from the tent. Across this trench are 
laid any old pieces of iron that can be found, and 
upon them is placed earth so as to exclude the air 
entirely except at a small aperture at the farther 
end, around which is built a sod chimney; and 
your winter quarters are complete. Thus you 
may have in your tent all the warmth and cheer- 
fulness of an open fire. 

" Myself and servant alone built one of these in 
an afternoon, and I spent in it some of the coldest 
weather we have had this winter very comfortably. 
The ' dug-out ' principle enters into the construc- 
tion of nearly all our little cabins; and, like the 
foxes, we have holes, and literally live in the 
1 caves and dens of the earth.' The officers gen- 



44 A WINTER CAMP 

erally build their quarters in the side of a bank, 
and have them logged up nicely, and they are 
very comfortable except in a long storm. Some- 
times our frail canvas covering sways terribly in 
the wintry blasts, and I have often laid down to 
sleep more than half expecting to find my house 
gone when I awoke. Still our little holes in the 
ground are a hundredfold better than no shelter 
at all, and far preferable to those in which the sol- 
dier ' sleeps the sleep that knows no waking/ 
Some of the men who have the faculty of making 
anything and everything with an axe put up quite 
large substantial log shanties, with two or three 
tiers of berths, as in a steamboat. Some have 
quite a neat, homelike appearance, and are fur- 
nished with fanciful little tables and shelves accord- 
ing to the tastes and wants of the occupants. 
Others are dismal and dirty in the extreme, and 
are mere dens. Nothing shows the character of 
the men more thoroughly than the little huts they 
inhabit. A few are too indolent to build them- 
selves anything, and are still living in their shelter 
tents. But over the heads of us all is merely a 
canvas roof, which will often leak, and it is a very 
common thing to see puddles of water, or a muddy 
floor, in our winter quarters. 

" Still those who are well live in the main a 
very comfortable life. The abundance of pure 



A WINTER CAMP 45 

air and exercise makes us strong and vigorous. 
It does not always storm. We have many days 
that are warm and sunny, and then give me camp 
life in preference to any other. The soldiers sit 
and lounge around their cabin doors in motley 
groups, reading (if they have anything to read), 
smoking, and gossiping, for a camp is a little 
miniature city, with its daily budget of news and 
sensations, its streets, squares, and centers, and 
also many of its nuisances. For the roar of New 
York we have a drowsy, diminutive hum, fre- 
quently broken rudely by a loud laugh or com- 
mand, the clangor of weapons, and sometimes, I 
am sorry to say, by loud oaths. Instead of musi- 
cal chimes from Trinity and her sister steeples, the 
silvery notes of the bugles proclaim the hours and 
duties of the day. Our lights glimmer and flicker 
out upon the night like long rows of glowworms 
rather than Broadway lamps ; and instead of the 
heavy tramp of police armed with star and club, 
the night-long rattle of sabres shows that the 
guards and sentinels are on their posts of duty. 
Sometimes there will be a heavy fall of snow dur- 
ing the night, and then the tents and cabins look 
like huge snow-banks, and the poor horses shiver 
all the more under the cold white blankets so 
summarily furnished, the only ones they ever get. 
These suffer more than the men, for in the main 



46 A WINTER CAMP 

they can have no shelter, and often have to do 
hard work on short rations. Their gaunt appear- 
ance and the number of their dead tells its own 
story. Our colonel remarked one day that he 
hoped the mud would get so soft and deep that 
the horses would sink in sufficiently to enable 
them to stand upright. 

" The greatest hardship of a soldier's life in win- 
ter is picket duty. For instance, our whole brig- 
ade, recently assigned to Colonel Kilpatrick, left 
their comfortable quarters a few mornings ago, 
and went out on picket duty for ten days. A cold, 
wet snow filled the air and clung to and dampened 
everything. It settled on one's hair and neck, 
melted, and ran down his back, producing a gen- 
eral feeling of discomfort. As the men formed 
preparatory to marching, their uniforms of blue 
rapidly changed to white, and as they filed off in 
the dim morning light they presented a shadowy, 
ghost-like appearance. When you realize what it 
is to march eighteen or twenty miles in such a 
storm over horrible roads, and then form a cordon 
of pickets twenty miles long in a wild, desolate 
country, you have some idea of the not unusual 
experience of a soldier. 

" When he reaches his destination, it is not a dis- 
agreeable journey over, and comfortable quarters 
in which to dry and refresh himself. All his con- 



A WINTER CAMP 47 

ditions of comfort are carried on his person, or 
strapped to his saddle, and he is thankful even for 
the shelter of a pine wood. Immediately on 
arrival, without time for rest, a large detachment 
must form the picket line, and stand ever on the 
alert from two to four hours at a time, be it day 
or night It should not be forgotten, during these 
long winter evenings when the stormy wind sweeps 
and howls around your comfortable dwellings, that 
among the wild woods and hills of Virginia, or on 
the plains of the far West, the patient sentinel 
walks his desolate beat, or sits like an equestrian 
statue on his horse, thus forming with his own 
chilled and weary frame a living breastwork and 
defence for your homes. Pray for him, that dur- 
ing these long, lonely hours of hardship and danger 
our merciful God may excite within his mind 
thoughts of that better life and happier world 
where the weary are at rest — where even the 
names of enemy and war are forgotten." 

" The regiment referred to is the Ninth New York 
Cavalry. Their chaplain is not with them at pres- 
ent. My offer to preach for them on the Sabbath 
was readily accepted, and though at the time of 
service it was cold and even raining slightly, a 
large congregation turned out and remained pa- 
tiently throughout the service. One of their offi- 



48 A WINTER CAMP 

cers remarked afterwards that he had not had the 
pleasure of attending anything of the kind before 
for five months. 

" If Christians North, who have piles of reading 
matter lying idly about their houses, could see 
how eagerly those men pressed forward to get the 
few tracts I offered, they would suffer it to remain 
thus useless no longer. Our soldiers seem to be 
hungry and almost starving for the want of mental 
and moral nourishment. 

" I often feel it my duty to be somewhat officious, 
and to offer my service outside of my regiment 
sometimes, for even such as I can give is better 
than nothing, which would be their lot if some did 
not go forward. I think Christians should be 
aggressive in their character, and seek opportuni- 
ties to extend the dominion of their King. There 
are too many professors who are like a certain 
chaplain, concerning whom I heard an officer re- 
mark " that he was a good, inoffensive man, and 
never disturbed the devil nor any one else in the 
camp." A prayer-meeting was appointed on 
Monday evening, but on the morning of that day 
the regiment received marching orders and de- 
parted for parts unknown. 

" One of the most remarkable conversions in our 
regiment is that of a quartermaster's sergeant. 
The man, although around the camp attending to 



A WINTER CAMP 49 

his duties, is in a critical state of health, bleeding 
almost daily at the lungs. When but a mere boy- 
he ran away from home because punished severely 
by his father for some fault, and was not heard 
from for over two years, during which time he 
suffered many hardships in the West. Not long 
after his discovery his father died and left a mother 
and a sister dependent upon him for support. This 
responsibility he nobly undertook, and worked 
hard, early and late, and denied himself every- 
thing to give them the comforts of life. Still, he 
was noted for his fiery and ungovernable spirit, 
which often got him into trouble. At an early 
age he went to sea and visited nearly all parts 
of the world. He engaged extensively in smug- 
gling, which occupation he followed both in 
English and Spanish waters. He returned home 
from this roving, reckless life but a short time be- 
fore the war broke out, and was among the first to 
enlist. During the past summer he has often been 
in circumstances of the greatest peril, but escaped 
unharmed. Once, in the confusion of battle, he 
found himself directly in front of a battery loaded 
with grape and canister. For some reason or 
other his horse would not move but stood stock 
still, and thus he had to wait for the terrible dis- 
charge which soon came. He said it seemed as if 
a perfect torrent of iron hail rushed by and all 

4 



50 A WINTER CAMP 

around him, and that his only thought was that 
his time had come now, and that the devil had got 
him then surely. By a miracle, as it seemed to 
him, he escaped unharmed, and was enabled to 
get out of range. Many and many a time he had 
heard the bullets hiss by his ears, and the shrill 
screams of shell overhead, but they raised in his 
mind no thoughts of God or repentance. 

"As I described in a former letter, a prayer-meet- 
ing was started in the camp, and held in the quarters 
of the new recruits. He heard the singing, and 
passing by the next day remarked to a new recruit 
that ' they seemed happy down there last night — 
guessed they must have had some whiskey.' The 
person addressed happened to be one of the three 
Christian men who first started the prayer-meeting, 
and he explained to the sergeant the somewhat 
different source and occasion of their happiness. 
The sergeant promised to attend that evening, 
which he did, and the ' still small voice ' of the 
Spirit spoke to him louder than the thunders of 
the battlefield. 

"An evening or two after that I noticed him 
among those who had come to the chaplain's tent 
to be conversed with on the subject of religion. I 
was struck by the contented, happy expression of 
his face. He told me that he had gone from that 
prayer-meeting to his tent, and commenced read- 



A WINTER CAMP 5 1 

ing a Testament. His tent-mate came along, and 
he immediately put out his light and hid his 
book. When he was alone again he knelt and 
prayed for the first time in his life, and after- 
wards, he said, 'he felt so happy he could not 
sleep.' 

" The next day, while about his work, something 
vexed him, and he swore, before he thought, as 
usual. He said * it grieved him so that he sat 
down and cried.' Though, as it were, alone in 
the world and bereft by death of almost every 
friend he loved, and now seemingly suffering from 
an incurable disease, he is a happy Christian 
man. 

" In our meetings he has to be constantly on his 
guard against over-excitement, since it would cause 
him to bleed at his lungs, but the expression of his 
face, as he sits quietly in one corner or beside the 
fire, shows how intense and keen is his enjoyment 
of that which he is forbidden to take part in actively. 
At first his change of life caused a good deal of 
remark and some merriment in his company. He 
would be asked ' when he was going up to 
heaven.' When he commenced his evening de- 
votions there was at first a good deal of jesting. 
' The quartermaster is going to pray ' would be 
called out, and remarks of a similar nature. They 
soon saw that he was sincere and respected him, 



52 A WINTER CAMP 

and ' now/ he says, ' he can hear a pin drop 
while he is at prayer.' 

" This is one of many of the interesting cases of 
conversion in our regiment. The chief feature 
of this work, however, seems to be the renewal of 
backsliders in their allegiance to God. But time 
will not permit me to write more at present." 

" How often when a boy I have shuddered at 
Indian atrocities. With what morbid pleasure I 
have searched through the early records of col- 
onial history for details of horror, fatal surprise, 
and midnight massacre. How I have watched in 
imagination, with suspended breath, the wary, 
noiseless approach of the painted savages, till 
with one wide-ringing war-whoop they rushed 
upon their unconscious victims, destined now to 
either death or captivity. The dangers and terrors 
of open battle seemed nothing to this constant 
dread of an unseen treacherous foe. I little 
thought that it would one day be my fortune to 
live under very similar circumstances, for life in 
Virginia now is not so very different from that of 
our forefathers a century or more ago. Pioneers 
in this wilderness of despotism and treason, we are 
exposed to dangers and hardships not much in- 
ferior to theirs. Ever near us we know there is a 
great army watching with sleepless vigilance, and, 



A WINTER CAMP 53 

like a wild beast crouching for its leap, it is ready 
to take advantage of the slightest mistake or show 
of weakness on our part. It is very strange, truly, 
when one comes to realize it, this living for years 
within a few miles of thousands who would take 
your life in a moment if they got a chance. 

" The forests and country around us swarm with 
guerillas. In place of some savage Indian chief, 
the terror of the whole border, the frontiers of 
our army are infested by the ubiquitous Mosby. 
The capture of a sutler's train near Fairfax and a 
raid upon an outpost on the Rappahannock occur- 
ring at the same time are both ascribed to Mosby 
in person by the soldiers. If a picket hears a dis- 
tant gallop in the night upon one flank of the 
army, and a sudden shot startles the air upon the 
other flank, Mosby is invariably the author of 
both alarms. No wonder the poor contrabands 
say ' Mosby mus' be like de debbel and go all 
ober to oncst/ He was once captured by our 
regiment while bearing dispatches and afterwards 
exchanged. After he was taken he tried to escape 
by running his horse, but one of our men sent a 
bullet whistling so near his head that it produced 
a sober second thought, and he, from that time, 
followed quietly. But he was not so famous then, 
and had not so many trained associates like-minded 
with himself. Now they follow a marching column 



54 A WINTER CAMP 

like hungry sharks about a ship, and woe be to 
the man that lags behind or strays from the main 
body. 

" This evil has one great advantage, however, and 
that is the almost entire suppression of straggling. 
Mosby and his companions have done more to 
abolish this disgraceful custom in our army than 
all the orders and edicts from the War Depart- 
ment and Major Generals down. A year or more 
ago, I saw bodies of men marching in a way that 
reminded one of a comet, the head of the regi- 
ment being the nucleus, the density decreasing 
rapidly as you went toward the rear, and finally a 
straggling raft of men scattered over two or three 
miles of territory constituting the tail. Now you 
will find a column moving trimly and compactly, 
and the rear files often looking suspiciously over 
their shoulders among the dark pines through 
which they are passing, for sometimes, especially 
at nights, shots are fired into the rear. 

" There are very few in the cavalry that have not 
had narrow escapes, for our position on the front 
and flanks of the army always brings us next to 
Mosby. Just before we crossed the Rappahannock 
the last time, our division commissary, Lieuten- 
ant Hedges, was returning to his quarters from 
a short ride to another part of the army, when he 
was hailed and ordered to surrender. * Never/ he 



A WINTER CAMP 55 

replied, at the same time striking spurs to his 
horse and leaning down upon him. He succeeded 
in escaping, but not before the guerilla, or as it is 
affirmed, Mosby in person, put a ball through 
his body. For some days he was not expected to 
live, but is now recovering slowly. I have had 
two or three narrow escapes myself where it 
almost seemed that Providence interfered to save 
my life. Once, when our regiment was doing 
picket duty at a distant outpost, I rode down to 
General Kilpatrick's headquarters on some busi- 
ness. As I was starting to return in the dusk of 
the evening, the general came out and asked me 
to stay with him that night. I replied that with 
his permission I would come again in the morning, 
and that I would rather be with my regiment at 
night; but as he insisted upon it, I stayed. The 
next morning, a little after daylight, one of our 
men was shot dead and robbed upon the road that I 
would have taken. A woman living near said that 
two bushwhackers had spent the night upon the 
road with the avowed intention of murdering and 
robbing the first man that went by. As no one 
passed that way during the early part of the night, 
they went into a house and slept till morning, and 
again were on the road in time to meet poor 
Francher of Company B, who had been after his 
pay. They took this, for his pocket was found 



$6 A WINTER CAMP 

turned inside out. It was my sad duty to bury 
him the next day, and as we lowered him into his 
lonely grave, I could not help asking myself, 
Why am I not in his place? 

" Once again, last November, while on the 
march, Lieutenant Whitaker and myself were 
about to pass over a road between our wagon 
train and General Kilpatrick's headquarters, when 
a little incident detained us about fifteen minutes. 
As we were going by the house of quite a noted 
secessionist, some of our boys began to make free 
in his cabbage garden and poultry yard, and a 
scuffle ensued between the old citizen, his wife and 
daughter, and the soldiers. An infantry colonel 
who was at the house came violently out, and in- 
stead of quietly showing his rank and firmly or- 
dering the men away, commenced cutting them 
with his sword, and made some quite serious 
wounds. It was with great difficulty that we pre- 
vented our men from killing him on the spot. 
But as the colonel outranked us, we could do 
nothing with him, and so passed on, but before 
we got fairly started upon the road again we met 
a man running, breathless, with his hat off, who 
said that he had just escaped from the guerillas. 
Lieutenant Newton of the First Vermont Cavalry 
was passing over the road with several men, when 
fifteen rebels sprang out upon him, killed one, 



A WINTER CAMP 57 

took two prisoners, and the rest saved themselves 
only by rapid flight. If we had not been detained, 
we would have arrived at the same spot a few 
minutes earlier and received their concentrated 
fire. 

" At times they have captured our mail, and 
afterwards they have taunted us by shouting out 
the contents of our letters to our pickets across the 
Rappahannock. One very dark night they slipped 
into the quarters of one of our officers while he 
was on picket, shot his colored servant, and carried 
him off to Richmond. Thus vigilance is a cardinal 
virtue in this, as well as in the Christian warfare. 
But we never suffered as much on the south as on 
the north side of the Rappahannock. The coun- 
try between the two rivers is now thoroughly 
occupied by our troops, and our picket lines so 
close and well posted as to render it almost impos- 
sible for the rebels to indulge themselves this 
winter in many murdering and horse-stealing 
expeditions." 



CHAPTER IV 

MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

IN November, 1863, Edward received a month's 
leave of absence from his regiment, and dur- 
ing this time was married to Miss Anna Sands. 
The ceremony was performed by the venerable 
Dr. Adams in Madison Square church, and was 
followed by a large reception at the bride's home 
in Seventeenth Street, New York. Leaving his 
bride there when the furlough was over, my brother 
returned to his regiment 

In this letter, written just after reaching camp, 
he dwells upon some of the contrasts of army 
life. 

" After a long absence I experienced a decided 
thrill of pleasure on finding myself once more 
among the white tents and familiar scenes of the 
camp, for there is something very fascinating about 
army life, notwithstanding its hardship and ex- 
posure. Very pleasant, too, was the hearty wel- 
come I received, and numberless great brown 
hands, reeking with moisture and pork grease from 
the meal they were superintending, gave me a grip 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 59 

that made my joints snap again. Still I much 
preferred it to your fashionable Northern two- 
fingered touch. It had a language whose meaning 
I liked. It showed I had the first requisite for 
doing good amongst them — their confidence and 
affection; I found only a part, though a large 
part, of my regiment at this place, which is a dis- 
mounted cavalry camp, containing the fragments 
of twenty or thirty regiments. Men whose horses 
have given out or been killed at the front come 
here and remain till they are again mounted and 
equipped, when they rejoin their commands. Our 
stay here will probably be brief, for we are ordered 
to the front as soon as possible. 

" One Saturday morning the monotony of camp 
life was decidedly broken. The day had been 
warm, and for a time the hum of camp activity 
had subsided almost into silence. The orderlies 
went to and fro as usual, but their horses had a 
listless, indolent canter, characteristic of all exer- 
tion at such a time. But as the day declined there 
were marks of unusual bustle at headquarters. 
A ball was to be given that evening by the com- 
manding officer. All officers present of our regi- 
ment were invited. As far as I could learn, music, 
dancing, and drinking were to be the staple amuse- 
ments of the evening. Not caring to participate 
in the two latter, and as I could enjoy the first in 



60 MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

my tent, I expected to remain very quietly at my 
quarters. At dusk the revelry commenced. At 
nine o'clock a carriage drove up to our quarters. 
It contained Captain Downing of our regiment, 
who had just come in from the front, bringing with 
him the dead body of one of our officers who had 
been drowned while bathing. This was sad news 
indeed, for Lieutenant Stewart was a good soldier 
and very popular. The captain wished to see the 
officer in command of our detachment. I went 
up to the headquarters to assist in finding him. 
All was gayety and frolic there. It was truly a 
beautiful scene. The trees were hung with Chinese 
lanterns of many colors. The guards paced back- 
ward and forward on the spacious lawn, their arms 
glittering in the moonlight, which glimmered 
through the grand old trees. In the distance the 
Potomac lay like a silver lake, with here and there 
a white sail upon its bosom. Over the green turf 
gayly dressed ladies and officers in rich uniform 
were tripping some light measure, while the clink- 
ing of glasses showed that the wine was passing 
freely. No one could help enjoying the music 
from the full military band. 

" Having noted the picturesque beauty of the 
scene, and moralized to myself awhile unnoticed 
among the throng, I thought I would step over to 
the hospital and see how the sick boys were enjoy- 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 6 1 

ing the revel. It was not over fifty yards from the 
music-stand. Though it might be pleasure to 
others, it was death to them. One poor fellow, far 
gone with the typhoid fever, and excited by the 
music and noise, was talking to himself in wild 
delirium. He has since died. All were restless 
and sleepless. I said a few quieting words, and 
was about leaving when a man asked me if I would 
not offer a prayer. " I am not a Christian man," 
he remarked, " but I would like to hear a prayer 
to-night." Of course I complied, and soon the 
words of supplication were mingling with the gay 
notes of the quickstep. I have seen the man since 
several times, and have good reason to believe that 
he has become a sincere, earnest Christian. The 
contrast in his two modes of life will be most 
marked. He told me that when at home he would 
often take his wife to church, and then ride on 
further and trade horses during the service, and 
call for his wife on his return. As may be imag- 
ined, army life had not improved his morals. Still 
the influence of his Christian wife followed him, 
and during his days of sickness came back 
in tenfold power, and the kindly Spirit of our 
merciful Father, ever-striving, led him to the 
Saviour. 

" After leaving the hospital I met the sergeant of 
the guard, and found him arming a body of men. 



62 MARRIAGE —THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

11 We are going to have trouble to-night," he said 
to me. The camp below was in a ferment. There 
were many there who loved whisky as well as the 
more privileged at headquarters. At first the 
rioters (who were mainly from a regiment of regu- 
lars) threatened to appropriate the officers' stores 
and break up the ball. But hardly daring to do that, 
they turned their attention to a sutler's tent and 
eating-house. They soon demolished his estab- 
lishment and set fire to his premises. They here 
obtained the much desired whisky, and excited by 
liquor, they boldly began preparations to attack 
another sutler who was unpopular. The riot was 
now getting formidable. From my tent I could 
overlook the whole camp and scenes at head- 
quarters. Meantime our regiment was arming 
and procuring ammunition. Fifty of our men were 
already acting as guards. They formed and re- 
ceived their cartridges in front of our tents, thus 
drawing attention to the headquarters of our de- 
tachment, which I thought at one time would pro- 
voke an attack upon us. I dreaded this, for one 
of our officers had left his wife in my charge at the 
commencement of the disturbance. Our men then 
marched to headquarters, fearing the first attack 
would be there. For a few moments all was still 
throughout the camp. Then there were signals in 
all directions. In a few moments more the mules 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 63 

were stampeded from the corrall. They then pro- 
ceeded to attack the sutler's tent just below us. 
Here the guards fired upon them, which caused 
them to retreat to the burning sutler's tent in the 
middle of the camp. Then I could see our men 
coming down from the headquarters on a full run. 
Wheeling at a certain point, they charged without 
a moment's hesitation. For a short time shots 
were fired in rapid succession, when the rioters 
broke and ran. The ball was arrested. The order 
was given, ' Every officer to his post.' The ladies, 
pale and frightened, were huddled together, asking 
anxious questions. Many of the officers might 
be seen in their ball-dress walking and riding 
through the camp with sword and pistol driving 
the men into their tents. Such volleys of horrible 
oaths as were heard in every direction I hope may 
never shock my ears again. Officers cursed the 
men, and the men cursed the officers. For a time 
things looked rather serious. Meanwhile our boys 
stood grim and expectant, ready to quell any show 
of resistance. In a few minutes the whole camp 
was under arms, but the ringleaders having been 
caught, quiet was eventually restored. My heart 
ached for the young wife who saw the exposure of 
her husband and felt her own danger, and who was 
compelled to listen to the awful profanity of the 
hour, I will say, for the benefit of all concerned, 



6*4 MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

that there was nothing of a political nature in the 
outbreak. Whatever may be the soldiers' vices, 
they have not yet sunk so far as to sympathize 
with Northern ' copperheads.' The cause, as far as 
I could learn, was the unpopularity of the sutlers, 
jealousy of our regiment because the guard of 
honor for the evening was chosen from it, and a 
desire for whisky, for which a certain class will 
do and dare anything. After quiet was restored 
the dancing, music, and drinking were resumed as 
though nothing had happened. Meanwhile, on 
one side the poor fellows in the hospital tossed 
and moaned and raved in their restlessness and 
delirium, and on the other lay the two rioters stiff 
and stark upon the ground, their souls rudely thrust 
out into the unknown amidst riot and intoxication, 
soon to be sobered but too well by their abrupt 
plunge into the dusk waters of death. Life pre- 
sents to the close observer peculiar phases and 
contrasts at all times, but it seems that in the 
events of this evening there was a strange mingling 
of life and death, pleasure and pain. Yet in the 
sick and repentant soldier God was at least fashion- 
ing one soul from out this moral and social chaos 
for the perfect symmetry of heaven. I had hoped 
that after the night's uproar we should have a quiet 
Sabbath, but was disappointed in this, for orders 
came in the morning to arm, mount, and equip 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 6$ 

every available man and send them all to the front. 
And so throughout the day the clangor of 
arms, the trampling of men and horses, and the 
words of command, made the quiet peacefulness 
of a Northern Sabbath a thing scarcely to be 
imagined." 

Late in February, 1864, Edward joined General 
Kilpatrick in his famous raid towards Richmond. 
He wrote a brief account of this, which was pub- 
lished in Lippincotfs Magazine. 

" In the dusk of Sunday evening four thousand 
men were masked in the woods on the banks 
of the Rapidan. Our scouts opened the way 
by wading the stream and pouncing upon the 
unsuspecting picket of twenty Confederates oppo- 
site. Then away we went across a cold, rapid 
river, marching all that night through the dim 
woods and openings in a country that was 
emphatically the enemy's. Lee's entire army 
was on our right, the main Confederate cavalry 
force on our left. The strength of our column 
and its objective point could not remain long 
unknown. 

" In some unimportant ways I acted as aid for 
Kilpatrick. A few hundred yards in advance of 
the main body rode a vanguard of two hundred 
men thrown forward to warn us should we strike 
any considerable number of the enemy's cavalry. 

5 



66 MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

As is ever the case, the horses of a small force will 
walk away from a much larger body, and it was 
necessary from time to time to send word to the 
vanguard, ordering it to ' slow up.' This order was 
occasionally intrusted to me. I was to gallop over 
the interval between the two columns, then draw 
up by the roadside and sit motionless on my horse 
till the general with his staff came up. The slight- 
est irregularity of action would bring a shot from 
our own men, while the prospect of an interview 
with the Johnnies while thus isolated was always 
good. I saw one of our officers shot that night. 
He had ridden carelessly into the woods, and rode 
out again just before the head of the column, with- 
out instantly accounting for himself. As it was of 
vital importance to keep the movement secret as 
long as possible, the poor fellow was silenced in 
sad error as to his identity. 

" On we rode, night and day, with the briefest 
possible halts. At one point we nearly captured a 
railroad train, and might easily have succeeded 
had not the station and warehouses been in flames. 
As it was, the train approached us closely, then 
backed, the shrieking engine giving the impression 
of being startled to the last degree. 

" On a dreary, drizzling, foggy day we passed a 
milestone on which was lettered, * Four miles to 
Richmond.' It was still ' on to Richmond ' with us 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 6j 

for what seemed a long way farther, and then came 
a considerable period of hesitancy, in which the 
command was drawn up for the final dash. The 
enemy shelled a field near us vigorously, but for- 
tunately, or unfortunately, the fog was so dense 
that neither party could make accurate observa- 
tions or do much execution. 

" For reasons that have passed into history, the 
attack was not made. We withdrew six miles from 
the city and went into camp. 

" I had scarcely begun to enjoy much-needed 
rest before the Confederates came up in the dark- 
ness and shelled us out of such quarters as we 
had found. We had to leave our boiling coffee 
behind us — one of the greatest hardships I 
have ever known. Then followed a long night 
ride down the Peninsula, in driving sleet and 
rain. 

" The next morning the sun broke out gloriously, 
warming and drying our chilled, wet forms. Nearly 
all that day we maintained a line of battle confront- 
ing the pursuing enemy. One brigade would take 
a defensive position, while the other would march 
about five miles to a commanding point, where it 
in turn would form a line. The first brigade would 
then give way, pass through the second, and take 
position well to the rear. Thus, although retreat- 
ing, we were always ready to fight. At one point 



68 MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 

the enemy pressed us closely, and I saw a magnifi- 
cent cavalry charge down a gentle descent in the 
road. Every sabre seemed tipped with fire in the 
brilliant sunshine. 

" In the afternoon it became evident that there 
was a body of troops before us. Who or what 
they were was at first unknown, and for a time the 
impression prevailed that we would have to cut 
our way through by a headlong charge. We soon 
learned, however, that the force was a brigade of 
colored infantry, sent up to cover our retreat. It 
was the first time we had seen negro troops, but 
as the long line of glistening bayonets and light- 
blue uniforms came into view, prejudices, if any 
there were, vanished at once, and a cheer from the 
begrimed troopers rang down our line, waking the 
echoes. It was a pleasant thing to march past that 
array of faces, friendly though black, and know we 
were safe. They represented the F. F. V.'s of Old 
Virginia we then wished to see. On the last day 
of the march my horse gave out, compelling me to 
walk and lead him. 

" On the day after our arrival at Yorktown Kil- 
patrick gave me despatches for the authorities at 
Washington. President Lincoln, learning that I 
had just returned from the raid, sent for me, and I 
had a memorable interview with him alone in his 
private room. He expressed profound solicitude 



MARRIAGE — THE RAID TOWARD RICHMOND 69 

for Colonel Dahlgren and his party. They had 
been detached from the main force, and I could 
give no information concerning them. We event- 
ually learned of the death of that heroic young 
officer, Colonel Dahlgren." 



CHAPTER V 

HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

IN March, 1864, Edward began his duties as 
chaplain of Hampton Hospital, having been 
appointed to this position before the raid described 
in the preceding chapter was undertaken. Mrs. 
Roe joined him at Washington and they went to 
Hampton together. A tribute is here due the 
brave young wife, who, leaving a home of luxury, 
accepted without a word of regret the privations 
of hospital life and was untiring in her devotion to 
the sick and wounded. The letters which follow 
show what that life was during the last two years 
of the war. The first is an appeal for books for 
the sick soldiers made through The Evangelist, and 
is preceded by a note of explanation from the 
editors of that paper. 

" We have received the following letter from the 
esteemed and efficient chaplain of the Hampton 
Hospital, Virginia, Rev. Mr. Roe, who, as it will 
be seen, is desirous of securing a well-selected sol- 
diers' library for the use of the hospital. Many of 
our readers formed an agreeable acquaintance 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 7 1 

with Mr. Roe, through his correspondence with 
The Evangelist while chaplain of the Harris Light 
Cavalry; and we would refer all others for an 
estimate of the man, as also of the nature and ex- 
tent of his duties in his new position, to an inter- 
esting paper in the August number of Harper's 
Magazine, on the Chesapeake and Hampton Hos- 
pitals. We shall take pleasure in aiding this 
praiseworthy object in every way in our power, 
and we trust that the money required for the pur- 
chase of these books will be. speedily contributed. 

* U. S. General Hospital, Fortress Monroe, Va. 

July 27, 1864. 

* Readers of The Evangelist : — Pardon me 
if I say a few plain words in preface to a request. 
I wish to appeal to a quality that I hope is univer- 
sal — gratitude. That the North is grateful for the 
self-sacrifice of its soldiers is well proved by its 
noble charities in their behalf. But, my Northern 
friends, you who dwell securely in beautiful and 
healthful homes, can you not give a little more for 
those who are giving all for you ? 

' The U. S. General Hospital at Hampton, Va., is 
very large this summer. The average is two thou- 
sand five hundred patients, and we often have three 
thousand. Accommodations are in process of con- 
struction for still larger numbers. This is now the 



72 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

nearest permanent hospital to General Grant's 
army. Almost daily transports from the front leave 
at our wharf sick and mutilated men by hundreds, 
and we in turn send those North who are able 
to bear further transportation. Thus our wards 
become mainly filled with what are termed the 
" worst cases " — men with whom the struggle for 
life will be long and doubtful. I could take you 
through our wards, and show you long rows of 
men with thigh amputations, fractured thighs; 
men who have lost arms, hands, and both their 
feet ; and in short, men with great gaping, ghastly 
wounds in every part of the body. With such in- 
juries nothing will sustain but cheerful courage; 
despondency is almost always fatal. The only 
true basis of such courage is God's religion, but to 
this all-important condition much can be added 
that is most excellent. But could you ask for 
more than these men have done and suffered? I 
think they have done their part. Yours is not so 
hard, but it is important. In your abundant pro- 
visions for their suffering bodies, do not forget 
rations for their minds. There are hundreds in 
this hospital who must lie upon their beds, weeks, 
and even months, before they can even hope to 
hobble out into the world again with crutch and 
cane. How shall they spend these long, hot, 
weary days? Give them cheerful, entertaining, 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 73 

instructive books, and the question is about solved. 
Who can calculate the value of a brave, cheerful 
book? It stimulates and strengthens the mind, 
which reacts upon the weakened body, and the 
man is at once made stronger, wiser, and better. 
I felt that first of all I ought to have a religious 
library, and through some effort, and the kindness 
of friends, have obtained a very fair collection. 
But cheerful, light, entertaining books are few and 
far between, while there is almost an entire dearth 
of histories, travels, etc. I find that sick soldiers, 
even the best of them, are like good people North, 
they do not like religious reading all the time. 
The works of Irving, John S. C. Abbott, Dickens, 
Cooper, Scott, and T. S. Arthur, would be invalu- 
able from both a sanitary and a moral point of 
view, for they would remove the parent of all evils— 
idleness. Poetry also is very much asked for. My 
simple request, therefore, is that out of gratitude to 
the brave suffering men who throng the wards of 
Hampton Hospital, you would send them good 
cheerful books. I have an excellent librarian, and 
I promise that they shall be carefully looked after 
and preserved. Among the thousands who have 
been here and gone away, I have scarcely lost a 
book. 

' Messrs. Harpers, and Appletons, and other 
prominent city publishers, have generously offered 



74 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

me their books at half price for hospital purposes. 
All contributions in money sent to me, or to the 
offices of the New York Evangelist, The Observer, 
and the Brooklyn Daily Union, will be promptly 
and judiciously laid out for such books as are 
needed. All contributions in books sent to the 
above-named places will be forwarded to the hos- 
pital in my care.' " 

Some years after the war was over, my brother 
took a trip to Fortress Monroe and visited the 
scenes of his former labors. I quote from a letter 
telling of the result of his appeal for a soldier's 
library and of the subsequent use that was made 
of the books. 

" We entered the fort, presented our letter to 
General Barry, in command, who received us with 
the utmost courtesy. The band discoursed de- 
lightful music. We examined the mitrailleuse, of 
which the world has heard so much of late. One 
of the most interesting points to me was the Post 
Library. Here among many others I found all 
the books that once formed our hospital library. 
Loyal Northern friends, who were ever caring for 
the soldier's well-being, enabled me to gather and 
purchase about three thousand volumes. I know 
that it will be gratifying to them to learn that their 
gifts, so far from being lost or destroyed, are all 
here in excellent order, and still doing the work 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 75 

for which they were designed. When a book be- 
comes badly worn it is sent away and rebound. 
The private soldiers, of which there are several 
hundred, as well as the officers, have free access to 
them. I was told by the soldier in charge that 
between two and three hundred of these books 
were taken out and read monthly. Under General 
Barry's careful supervision they will be in use for 
years to come. He evidently regards his men as 
something more than machines." 

It was inevitable that my brother should witness 
many sad partings during those long years of 
conflict, and the strain upon his sympathies was 
very great, as may be seen from the letters that 
follow. 

" Among the painful and tragic events that oc- 
curred in our hospital at Fortress Monroe, there 
was one wherein heaven and earth were strangely 
mingled. The arm of a strong, powerful man had 
been amputated at the shoulder joint. He was full 
of vitality and made a long but vain struggle for 
life. Day after day, and week after week, he lay, 
scarcely daring to move, lest the artery should 
break and his life blood ebb away. But ever at 
his side (it seemed to me that she almost never 
left him) sat his true, patient wife. Strange and 
incongruous did her slight and graceful form, her 
pale, beautiful face appear in that place of wounds 



76 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

and death. The rough soldiers were never rough 
or profane in her presence, and their kindly sym- 
pathy often touched me. For long weeks the scale 
turned for neither life nor death, but at last the 
sharp agony of hope and fear ended in the dull 
pain of despair. He must die. The artery broke 
and bled again and again, and skill would soon be 
of no avail. Some time previous to this, a mes- 
sage had come to the poor wife that her mother 
was dying, and she was requested to return home 
immediately. 

" ' No,' she said, ' my mother is among friends *, 
my husband is alone ; I must stay with him/ 

" Late one night, when the certainty of death 
was apparent, they sent for me, and we three had 
a long, calm talk in the dim, crowded ward. The 
brave, true soldier did not regret that he had en- 
tered his country's service, though it cost him so 
dearly, but he spoke a few words in regard to 
those who caused the war that must ever hang 
upon them like millstones. Turning to his young 
wife with an affection beautiful to look upon, he 
said : — 

" * Mary, you have prepared me to die, now you 
must go home and do the same for your poor 
mother.' 

" These brief words revealed a world of meaning. 
She had not been sitting at his side in helpless 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL JJ 

pain, looking with fearful eyes into the dreary- 
future when she should be alone and dependent 
with her child in a cold, selfish world. Forgetting 
her own heart-break, she had been untiring in her 
efforts to brighten his pathway down into the dark 
valley with the hope of heaven. God had blessed 
her angel work, for he seemed a Christian. I went 
away from that bedside more awed than if I had 
come from the presence of a king. 

" Early one morning I was hastily summoned to 
the ward. It was crowded and confused. The 
last hours had now come. The artery had broken 
away beyond remedy, and from the ghastly wound 
the poor man's life-blood poured away in tor- 
rents, crimsoning the floor far and near. His face 
was pale and wild, for death had come at last in 
an awful form. In mistaken kindness they had 
kept his wife from him, fearing the effect of the 
scene upon her. Drawn by her frantic cries to the 
ward-master's room, I went and said to her — 
1 My poor friend, you can go to your husband, 
but for his sake you must be perfectly calm. We 
can do nothing for him if he is excited.' For his 
sake, ah ! yes, for his sake she could do anything, 
even master the whirlwind of sorrow at her heart. 
In a moment she became as quiet and gentle as a 
lamb, and crept noiselessly to his side. The man 
rallied and lived a short time, and husband and 



78 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

wife were left alone. We may well draw the veil 
over that last solemn farewell. 

" For a brief space the pair sat on the shores of 
time, the extreme cape and promontory of life. 
All around rolled the ocean of eternity. Then 
one went forward into the unknown, and the cur- 
tain between the two worlds fell. In wild agony 
she clasped his lifeless form. The ward-master 
sought tenderly to lift her and lead her away. 
For a moment the tempest in her soul found ex- 
pression and she sprang upon him like a tigress. 
Then came again the strange, unnatural calm like 
that when the Master said, ' Peace, be still ! ' 
Quietly, thoughtfully she made all her arrange- 
ments and soon went northward to her dying 
mother, taking the precious dust of him she had 
loved with her, and we saw her no more. But 
her sad, pale, patient face will haunt me through 
life. 

" If all the bits of romance in these hospitals 
were gathered up they would make volumes. I 
will instance only two cases. 

" It is somewhat common to get shot now, and 
yet for all that it is none the less rather a painful 
and tragical experience. Well, two of our soldiers 
were shot; one had his arm taken off, and the 
other lost an arm and a leg also. They both wrote 
to their respective fair ones, expressing the fear 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 79 

that they would no longer wish to unite themselves 
with such mutilated specimens of humanity, and if 
such were their feelings they were free. The female 
engaged to the man who had lost an arm availed 
herself of his release. She could not think of 
marrying him under such circumstances. The 
blow was fatal to the poor fellow. He became 
hopelessly deranged, and is now in the asylum in 
this city. Still, considering her character, perhaps 
he escaped a worse fate. 

" The lady engaged to the soldier who had lost 
both his arm and leg replied that she honored 
him for his wounds; that she loved him all the 
more for his patriotism and the heroism which led 
him to incur them ; and that if he would permit 
her she would come on, and take care of him. 
She did so, and married him." 

One turns with a feeling of relief, after the har- 
rowing details in the letters already given, to this 
account of the Christmas festivities at Hampton 
Hospital. 

" We are told that ' the desert shall blossom as 
the rose.' We believe it, for even the hospital, — 
the house of disease and wounds, the spot ever 
shadowed by the wings of the dark angel, — even 
this place of sombre associations can wreathe itself 
in festive garlands and resound with songs. Doctor 
McClellan, surgeon in charge, has the enlightened 



80 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

opinion that pills and physics are not the only 
health-restoring influences that can be brought to 
bear upon his patients. All efforts to celebrate 
the holidays with spirit have received his hearty 
sympathy and cooperation. The joyous season, 
so full of happy memories, has not passed in dull 
monotony. Though winds blew high and cold, 
still, throughout Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, 
the axes rang merrily in the woods. Huge masses 
of holly, cedar, and pine might be seen moving 
towards the different wards, and approaching near 
you would find a nurse or convalescent staggering 
along beneath the green and fragrant burden. 
Under the magic of many skilful hands the pliant 
boughs are soon tied and twisted into a thousand 
devices. Men with only one hand worked with 
the rest. Men possessing but a single leg were 
busy as the others. Thump, thump, over the floor 
go the crutches, as old battered veterans hobbled 
about in all directions, to view in different lights 
the artistic and fantastic results of their labors. 
Even the dull face of chronic pain lights up and 
wanly smiles, while dim eyes, fast closing on 
earthly scenes, gaze wistfully on the fragrant ever- 
greens and query to themselves if they are to be 
the symbols of their memories at distant homes. 

" But though many wards blossomed out into 
holiday garlands, the crowning glories of the kind 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 8 1 

were to be found in Ward C. Quaint devices, 
hanging festoons, wreaths and shields and graceful 
arches, draped the place in varied beauties like 
the tapestry of old, which turned rough and 
gloomy apartments into warm and silken bowers. 
The feathery cedar, tasselled pine, and far-famed 
laurel formed the rich background for the bright 
berries of the Christmas holly which glistened like 
rubies set in emerald folds. Flags were looped 
across the stage, and the curtains in the rear also 
showed the stars and stripes. The hospital choir 
and glee-club had here prepared an entertainment 
most agreeable to the tastes of all. Their motto, 
a beautiful transparency, explains its character, 
1 We come with songs to greet you.' As darkness 
fell a throng surrounded every door. Up the 
high steps to the main entrance, an hour before 
the doors were opened, crowding, jostling hun- 
dreds gathered, seeming like a human wave lifted 
by some powerful impulse from the sea of heads 
below. Around the building in circling eddies, 
knots of men sauntered talking, wondering, and 
anticipating concerning the pleasures of the 
evening. Above the swaying masses numerous 
crutches might be seen. Thus raised aloft they 
seemed like standards, showing well the spirit of 
our soldiers. It is not in wounds to keep them 
at home. If they have the sad misfortune not to 

6 



82 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

have two legs beneath them, they are sure to go on 
one if anything unusual calls them out. Within, 
now, the lamps are lighted, down the long and 
echoing ward, and through the festoons and glis- 
tening arches, they wink and twinkle like fireflies 
in a cedar forest. The doors are opened and, 
under Doctor McClellan's wise and careful super- 
vision, at least a thousand persons are soon ad- 
mitted and seated. Those not so fortunate as to 
get seats fill every space of standing room. The 
hall is full, and those who cannot gain admittance 
crowd around outside the windows, where faces 
gleam in the fitful light, like framed and grotesque 
pictures. 

" At a given signal the orchestra commenced, and 
the hum and buzz of many voices died away like 
a breeze in the forest. But it is useless to attempt 
to describe music — songs and anthems that seem 
like living spirits which by powerful spells may be 
called up to float and pass before you, and stir the 
soul with magic influences. It was no rude affair. 
Ears that have been educated at the Academy 
of Music would have tingled with novel and de- 
lightful sensations, could they have heard those 
deep, rich soldiers' voices accompanied by our 
lady nurses, and the lady teachers of the Tyler 
House, chanting our national anthems, or exciting 
irresistible mirth by their comic songs. Mr. Til- 



HAMPTON HOSPITAL 83 

den's ripe, powerful, mellow voice moved every 
heart, and more than satisfied the nicest and most 
critical ear. Mr. George Terry, changeful as an 
April day, now convulsed the audience with laugh- 
ter, and again, a moment afterwards, caused all 
eyes to overflow. Mrs. Meachann, Miss East- 
man, Mr. Sears, and Mr. Allen sustained their 
parts with marked ability, and little Miss Mary 
White brought down the house by singing a 
ballad whose simple beauty was universally ap- 
preciated. But where all perfectly performed the 
parts assigned to them, it is almost invidious to 
make distinctions. Mr. Metcalf, the leader of the 
choir, must have been satisfied with the perform- 
ances, as certainly all others were. ' Home, Sweet 
Home/ closed the entertainment, and carried us 
all back to that dear and never-to-be-forgotten 
place. Again in fancy we gathered around the 
familiar hearthstone, made warm and bright by 
blazing fire and sweet memories of other days. 
God grant that another Christmas day may find us 
all there. 

" But in the hospital there were hundreds con- 
fined by sickness, wounds, and weakness to their 
beds. However good their will may have been 
they were physically unable to join with their 
more fortunate companions in outside enjoyments. 
They were not forgotten or neglected. On Sab- 



84 HAMPTON HOSPITAL 

bath afternoon the choir again assembled, and 
commencing with Ward One, we passed through 
fourteen wards, making the old walls ring again 
with Christmas anthems. This, with wishing the 
patients a merry Christmas, and that another re- 
turn of the happy day might find them all safe at 
home, and the reading, in Luke ii., of the angelic 
announcement to the shepherds of the ' unspeak- 
able gift ' to us all, constituted the simple service. 
On Monday there was much high feeding. Sleek 
cattle and corpulent pigs were roasted whole, and 
there was a powerful mortality in the hospital 
poultry-yard. Men who could never carve their 
fortunes showed wonderful ability in carving tur- 
key. These substantial luxuries, seasoned by the 
recent victories, made for us a royal feast, to which 
the sovereigns in blue sat down with unmingled 
satisfaction." 



CHAPTER VI 

THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

IN a letter to the Hon. William Cullen Bryant, 
then editor of the Evening Post, Edward gives 
an account of the establishment of his hospital 
farm, and tells of its benefit to the men under his 
care. 

" Hon. William C. Bryant — Dear Sir : The 
meeting in behalf of ' New York's disabled soldiers' 
has deeply interested me and awakened many war 
memories. During the last two years of the Re- 
bellion I had some experience, in a small way, 
which may suggest useful features in a Soldiers' 
Home. At that time I was one of the chaplains 
of "the Fortress Monroe hospitals, and the cam- 
paigns in the vicinity of Petersburg and Richmond 
often filled our long barracks to repletion and also 
covered the adjacent acres with temporary tent 
wards. Lying around the hospital there was an 
abundance of idle and unfenced land. With the 
sanction of Doctor McClellan, the surgeon in charge, 
I had this enclosed and planted with such vege- 
tables as were most useful and conducive to health, 



86 THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

the odorous onion taking the lead. The tulip 
mania had its day, but the weakness of average 
humanity for this bulb is as old as history — see 
Numbers xi., 5 — and apparently it is only growing 
more prevalent with the ages. If this is evolution 
in the wrong direction Mr. Huxley should look 
after it. 

" The labor of the hospital farm was performed 
by the patients themselves, and very many soon 
became deeply interested in their tasks. When a 
man became so far convalescent from illness or 
wounds as to be able to do a little work, he was 
detailed for the garden and employed in its lighter 
labors. As he grew stronger he was put at heavier 
work. Heroes who had lost arms and legs supple- 
mented each other's deficiencies, the two maimed 
men contriving to do between them far more than 
many a stout fellow who now demands $1.50 a 
day. A man with one hand could sow seed and 
weed the growing vegetables, while his comrade 
hitched along on his crutch and vigorously hoed 
the ground between the rows. I sometimes had 
as many as a hundred men at work, and I ever 
found that such tasks benefited body and soul. It 
did one's heart good to see pallid faces grow brown 
and ruddy, and flabby muscles round and hard. 
It did one more good thus easily to banish home- 
sickness and the miserable incubus of ennui from 



THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 8? 

which the sufferer is prone to seek relief in some 
form of vicious excitement. For the satisfaction 
of those who ask for more practical results I can 
state that we were able to send green vegetables to 
the hospital kitchens by the wagonload. As the 
record of the second year at the farm, made at the 
time, I find among other items the following : 700 
bushels of snap beans in the pod, 120 do. lima 
beans, 130 do. carrots, 125 do. peas, 470 do. pota- 
toes, 250 do. tomatoes, 1,500 bunches of green 
onions, 30,000 heads of cabbage, 26,900 ears of 
sweet corn, 2,500 muskmelons, etc. A large 
poultry yard, enclosing four acres, was also built, 
and many other improvements made, all being 
accomplished by the willing labor of the convales- 
cents themselves, who more rapidly regained their 
strength while thus furnishing the means of health 
to those still confined within the walls. 

" Recalling these facts I am greatly pleased to 
learn that the ' New York Home ' is to be located 
on a farm, for thus it may be made a home in re- 
ality. Providence put the first man into a garden, 
and few men have lived since who have not felt 
more at home when a garden lay about the door." 

During the years that Edward was at Hampton 
Hospital, his friend Mr. Merwin was doing a noble 
work among the soldiers in the hospitals at the 
front, under the direction of the Christian Com- 



88 THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

mission. My brother at one time wished to be re- 
lieved of his duties as chaplain for several weeks, 
and Mr. Merwin kindly consented to take his place. 
He afterwards wrote of this time : — 

" I found that Edward's presence among the 
sick and wounded was sadly missed, and that he 
had labored in many ways to contribute to their 
comfort and happiness. He brought from the 
North an experienced farmer and supplied the 
hospital with an abundance of excellent vegetables. 
Subsequently a church was erected by his efforts 
for the growing needs of that post." 

While absent at the North my brother raised 
most of the funds necessary to build this chapel at 
Hampton. When he revisited the place years 
afterward, he found the chapel still in use. He 
was gratified also to learn that the hospital library 
continued to be of service. He says : 

" Some of us rode out to the former site of the 
hospital. Many pleasant changes have occurred. 
The acres of ground occupied by sick and wounded 
men are now covered with orchards and the homes 
of peaceful industry. The hospital garden has in 
part become the grounds of a college for freed- 
men, and is in a high state of cultivation. The 
college itself is a fine building, and under the able, 
energetic administration of General Armstrong, is 
full of promise for the race that we have so long 



THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 89 

kept in ignorance. He is teaching them many 
things of vital use, and among these one of the 
most important is a wise, economical culture of 
the ground. The chapel to which we have re- 
ferred is inclosed within the cemetery grounds, 
and only needs a few repairs now and then, to 
preserve it a substantial church for many years to 
come. I was told that there had been religious 
services in it nearly every Sabbath since the war. 

" The soldiers' monument, now seen for the first 
time, impressed me most favorably. In its severe 
simplicity it truthfully commemorates the lives and 
characters of those who sleep beneath. Over 
three hundred dollars was given to me by the sol- 
diers in twenty-five and fifty cent stamps and one- 
dollar bills, and with some these gifts were almost 
like the widow's mite — all they had. It was most 
gratifying to see how nobly their wish and purpose 
had been carried out. That it has been so is due 
to that friend of the soldier and of all humanity, 
Miss D. L. Dix, who to the mites of the hospital 
patients added thousands of dollars collected else- 
where." 

From another letter I take Edward's description 
of the chapel. 

" The building is cruciform in its shape, and at 
the foot rises a light and graceful tower and spire, 
sixty feet high, surmounted by a cross showing 



90 THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

each way. The style of architecture is Gothic. 
The chapel-room is thirty feet by sixty, with a high, 
arched ceiling. It is beautifully and smoothly 
plastered, and whitened with some kind of hard 
finish. Two aisles run down the room, thus mak- 
ing three tiers of seats. These are somewhat 
Gothic in their form, and are stained black-walnut, 
surmounted by a white round moulding, which 
makes a pleasing contrast. In the place where 
the head of the cross should have been, there is 
merely a small projection from the main building, 
forming in the large chapel-room an alcove or re- 
cess. A beautiful Gothic frame containing two 
medium-sized and one large window of stained 
glass forms the rear of this projection, and aids in 
lighting the room. All the windows in the chapel 
part are of stained glass, and they render the light 
very soft and pleasant. I found them about as 
cheap as curtains, and much more pretty and 
durable. The space in the alcove is occupied by 
a slightly raised platform and a plain, simple pulpit, 
still lacking a cushion. It is a very easy room 
to speak in, and in it music sounds remarkably 
well. The left arm of the cross, towards the hos- 
pital, constitutes the library, and is a large, airy 
room, thirty feet by twenty-four, furnished with 
tables, book-shelves, and reading-desks. Our col- 
lection of books is said to be one of the finest in 



THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 9 1 

the hospital service. Here also will be found the 
magazines, dailies, and weeklies, and prominent 
among our files will be The Evangelist. The right 
arm of the cross consists of four small but pleasant 
rooms, and will now be used as the chaplain's 
quarters, and at some future time as a parsonage. 

11 The building is of a dark color, with white 
doors and window-frames. Around the entire 
structure has been built a rustic Gothic fence, 
constructed of smooth pine poles, and forming a 
heart-shaped enclosure. Therefore we have the 
following device : the church in the centre of the 
heart." 

Soon after Edward's return from the North to 
his work at the hospital there was a marked re- 
vival of religion among the sick and wounded 
men. He says : — 

" I think the most marked feature of the re- 
vival is the reclamation of those who have gone 
astray — who have found the temptations of camp 
life too powerful to be resisted. Since I have 
been in the service I have met hundreds of soldiers 
who acknowledged that they had been professors 
of religion at home. They had entered the army 
with the best of intentions, but the lack of Sabbath 
privileges, of the sacred influences of the hearth, 
and all the numberless aids which bolster up a 
church member at the North, together with the 



92 THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

strong and positive allurements to sin in the field, 
had discovered to them their weakness and they 
had fallen. But in most cases it would seem that 
the old vital spark still smouldered at the bottom 
of their hearts. According to their own confes- 
sions, they are restless and dissatisfied, and unable 
to attain to the stolid or reckless apathy of those 
who have never tasted of the heavenly manna. 
Put them under the influence of an earnest prayer- 
meeting or faithful sermon, and they are like old 
rheumatic flies in an April sun, or the apparently 
dead and leafless trees in the warm breath of 
spring, or the veteran soldier who hears the famil- 
iar call to arms after years of ignoble peace. It is 
very interesting to watch them in our meetings. 
The first evening they take seats far back, and 
look around with an uneasy air, as if almost 
ashamed to be seen. The next evening they sit 
near the leader. They soon venture to respond 
faintly to some of the more earnest prayers. At 
last, unable to restrain the rising tide of feeling, 
they rise up, and often with tears and penitence 
confess their backslidings, resolve to be faithful 
hereafter, and ask the prayers of all present that 
they may never be so weak as to wander again. 
They then take their places amongst those whom 
I call the fighting part of the congregation — those 
whose active aid I can rely upon. 



THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 93 

" In one of the wards, where ' the straightfor- 
ward Christian ' (as I call him) is on duty, they 
are having a little revival by themselves. He 
gives its inmates no peace till they become Chris- 
tians in self-defence. During the beautiful moon- 
light nights of last month, he organized a little 
prayer-meeting, which met on the banks of an 
arm of the bay that runs up into the mainland near 
the ward, and there claimed and verified the prom- 
ise of ' Where two or three are gathered together 
in My name, there am I in the midst of them.' 

" God does seem near the soldiers, and the sol- 
diers as a general thing are ready to respond to 
His gracious invitations, not only here but else- 
where, and in fact in every place where Christians 
are willing to come down, or rather up to their 
level, and work among them with a genuine, 
heartfelt sympathy. 

" In a recent letter from the front, my brother, 
Rev. Alfred C. Roe, Chaplain 104th N. Y. V., 
writes : ' We have weekly and almost daily con- 
versions. Our prayer-meetings, though held in 
the trenches, and often in close proximity to the 
enemy, are largely attended, and unless prevented 
by important business the colonel is always pres- 
ent. The staff at headquarters is like a Christian 
family.' 

" I have found by experience that the formal pres- 



94 THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL 

entation of Gospel truth once a week by an offi- 
cer in chaplain's uniform, or in any other, does 
not amount to much, unless faithfully followed up 
by personal effort and the social prayer-meeting. 
The religion of our Saviour, presented in the spirit 
of our Saviour, rarely fails to move even the rough 
soldier. I have found a most efficient colaborer 
in Chaplain Billingsly, also in Chaplain Raymond." 



CHAPTER VII 

PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

SOON after the close of the war Edward 
accepted a call to the little church at High- 
land Falls, about a mile below West Point. This 
was his only charge, and here he spent nine happy, 
useful years. His first impressions of the church 
and congregation may be gathered from the fol- 
lowing* letter. 

" I found myself in a true orthodox Presbyterian 
church, for although the thermometer stood far 
below zero and the roads were snowy and un- 
broken, still the number of ladies present far ex- 
ceeded that of the gentlemen. I regarded this fact 
as a good omen, for if a pastor can depend upon 
a few strong-hearted women (not strong-minded 
in the cant sense of the phrase), he has only to go 
forward prudently to certain success. Summing 
up the entire congregation, small and great, it 
nearly made that number so well known, alas, in 
country churches, which is appropriately termed 
1 a handful.' 

" These good people were thinly scattered over 



96 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

a plain little audience room that would seat com- 
fortably one hundred and twenty. The church 
was bitter cold, and the situation of the pulpit, be- 
tween the two doors, seemed designed to chill 
anything like enthusiasm on the part of the 
speaker. The construction of the building bore 
evidence that some architect of the olden time de- 
termined to achieve celebrity, in that he placed its 
back toward the street, and faced it toward noth- 
ing in particular. This, with minor eccentricities, 
really entitled the edifice to the antiquarian's atten- 
tion. But I intend not a disrespectful word against 
the little church, for precious souls have been gath- 
ered there and trained for heaven." 

It was in February that Edward received a 
unanimous call to this church, and from that time 
he gave himself up to the work of collecting funds 
for the erection of a new building. The majority 
of the people were not wealthy and many of them 
were very poor, but they did all they possibly 
could, many giving at the cost of great personal 
sacrifice. The brunt of the enterprise, however, 
necessarily fell upon my brother. About this 
time he began giving lectures on his experiences 
in the Civil War, often travelling many miles to 
deliver them, going wherever there was a chance 
to make money and so help forward his cherished 
object. He also obtained large sums from wealthy 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 97 

city churches and from friends, through personal 
solicitation. 

At the end of two years Edward and his co- 
workers felt justified in laying the corner-stone of 
the new church. Here is his description of the 
ceremony. 

" Patient effort seldom fails of its reward, and 
the day we had long toiled and prayed for, when 
we could lay the corner-stone of our new church, 
at length arrived. The 16th of September dawned, 
cloudy and dubious, like the commencement of 
the enterprise. The morning hours brought dis- 
appointment and heavy rain, as the two long years 
of work and waiting had brought many discour- 
agements. Rev. Dr. William Adams of New York, 
who was to have made the address, was unavoid- 
ably detained ; and the skies frowned so darkly it 
was thought best to defer the ceremony. But 
before the hour appointed there was a general 
brightening up. The clouds broke away and van- 
ished over Crow Nest and the adjoining mountains. 
The sun smiled out in irresistible invitation and 
the people gathered in such numbers that it was 
thought best to go forward with the ceremony. 
This we were most anxious to do, as the North 
River Presbytery had honored our church as the 
place of its Fall meeting, and most of its members 
could upon this day be present with us. 

7 



98 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

" As the shadows were lengthening eastward, 
we gathered among the evergreens that surround 
the solid foundation of the new edifice. It was 
just such a gathering as we love to see at a church 
— representatives from every age and class in the 
community. Little barefooted urchins climbed 
up into the cedars and looked on with wondering 
eyes. All right ! the church is as truly for them 
as for the President, should he honor us with a 
visit. In a huge block of granite at the northeast 
corner of the building a receptacle had been cut. 
Around this we gathered. The Hon. John Bige- 
low, our former Minister to France, commenced 
the simple ceremony with a very happy address. 
In simple periods of classic beauty he spoke of 
church edifices as the highest and most disinter- 
ested expressions of the benevolence and culture 
of a community; and in words that were good 
omens of the future he dwelt upon the beneficent 
influences flowing therefrom. The Pastor next 
came forward, and stated that a copy of the 
Scriptures only, as published by the American 
Bible Society, would be deposited in the stone. 
In this solemn and emblematic act we wished to 
leave out everything that would take from the sim- 
plicity and force of the figure. God's Word alone 
in its purity should underlie the material structure, 
and so we hoped His Word alone, unmixed and 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 99 

undistorted by human opinions, would be the 
foundation of the spiritual church that should be 
built there in coming years. Therefore no papers, 
coins, or records of any kind, were placed in the 
sealed box with the Bible. If after the lapse of 
centuries this solid wall were taken down, this sol- 
itary Bible, unmarred by pen or pencil, will be a 
clearer record than long and formal documents, of 
a church that sought to honor God, and not man, 
and to keep His name before the people, and not 
that of some human instrument. With the usual 
words the massy block of granite was lowered to 
its place, and, humanly speaking, generations will 
pass away before these leaves again are turned. 

" The Rev. Dr. Wheeler of Poughkeepsie, who 
kindly offered to act in Dr. Adams's place, 
spoke in a vein of strong original eloquence 
which chained the attention of all for a brief time. 
As an impromptu effort it was singularly appro- 
priate and hope-inspiring. He closed with a 
prayer, in the fervor of which a lady said that she 
could almost see the walls and spire rising to 
beautiful and entire completion. Rev. Mr. Teal 
of Cornwall pronounced the benediction, and thus 
closed the ceremony. 

" We are building of the blue granite found in 
abundance upon the ground. The walls rise from 
the rocky foundation in massive thickness of plain, 



100 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

hammer-dressed stone, and thus are in keeping with 
the rugged mountain scenery. Time will rather 
strengthen the work than weaken it. We build 
from the rock with the rock, and trust that the 
great Spiritual Rock will underlie it all. 

" It will cost us twenty thousand dollars to com- 
plete the church, and of this sum we have on 
hand, or promised, nearly half. The building is 
under contract to be finished the first of June next, 
and whatever indebtedness there exists will be 
provided for by a mortgage. The ladies of the 
church and the Sabbath-school children have 
pledged themselves by fairs and concerts to pro- 
vide for the interest of the debt until the principal 
is paid. The people are proving that they are in 
earnest by their deeds. By their hearty sympathy 
and cooperation, Mr. Cozzens, the proprietor of 
the hotel, and his lady have greatly contributed 
to our success. 

" The guests of the house have been very liberal 
and attentive, and show an increasing interest in 
the enterprise. At a time of hesitancy and doubt 
a generous gift of five hundred dollars, from C. K. 
Garrison, Esq., of New York, soon after followed 
by five hundred dollars more from Richard 
Schell, Esq., enabled us to go forward with hope 
and confidence. Mr. Garrison is a native of our 
region, and happy would it be for the country if, 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS IOI 

following his example, those who have won wealth 
and distinction abroad would return and enrich 
their birthplace by such noble proofs of their 
benevolence. Monuments of this kind perpetuate 
one's name better than tombstones. Among the 
summer worshippers at our little church under 
the trees, we have been glad to recognize so long 
the kindly face of Rev. J. G. Craighead of The 
Evangelist, and long and gratefully will our people 
remember his words from the pulpit and in the 
social meeting. Rev. Dr. Robinson of Harris- 
burgh, Pa., has also been one of our summer resi- 
dents, and one that we shall soon sadly miss." 

Four years longer minister and people worked 
unceasingly in the interests of their new church, my 
brother continuing to give his lectures wherever 
opportunity offered. One delivered at Providence, 
Rhode Island, was quoted at some length in a 
daily paper of that city, and is here reprinted. 

" The Rev. E. P. Roe, of West Point, lectured 
last night before a fair audience, at Harrington's 
Opera House, under the auspices of Prescott Post 
No. i, G. A. R., on 'Secret Service at the Front; 
or Scouting and Guerrillas.' During the war, said 
the speaker, the northern people regarded guer- 
rillas as irresponsible bands of outlaws, living by 
violence and plunder, and while leaning to and 
assisting the rebels, ready to murder and rob with- 



102 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

out much regard for either side. The majority of 
the guerrillas were, no doubt, as bad as generally 
supposed, but there were among them trusty and 
intelligent scouts, whose employment was to trace 
out the position and movements of the Union army, 
and who, no matter how much robbing and mur- 
dering they might do on their own account, never 
lost sight of the main object of their service. The 
acuteness of these scouts and the various disguises 
which they assumed were more than surprising. 
As a division of the Union army passed along, an 
old citizen might have been seen building a rail 
fence. Surely that ancient-looking farmer knows 
nothing, the passing troops would readily think. 
But under that old felt hat gleamed a watchful eye 
and listened attentive ears, observing and hearing 
everything worthy of remark. As soon as the 
army passed, he throws down his rails and slips off 
to the swamp, mounts a fleet horse, and soon the 
numbers, destination and condition of the Union 
division are reported at the nearest rebel head- 
quarters. Sometimes the woods on both sides 
of the marching column swarmed with prowling 
guerrillas ; sometimes an affable stranger in Union 
colors would approach, enter into conversation 
with the weary straggler, gain all the information 
he could, and then shoot down his informant. 
They were very bold in their operations. One day 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS IO3 

an orderly was riding with important despatches 
far within the Union lines, when he was startled by 
a mounted rebel, who made his appearance from 
the woodside, and who, presenting a pistol at his 
breast, demanded his arms and despatches. After, 
as he imagined, cleaning out the orderly, the rebel 
invited him to come along and accept a little South- 
ern hospitality. The scout rode a little forward, 
and as he did so, a quiet grin played stealthfully 
over his furious countenance; a little pistol was 
withdrawn from a side pocket, the cold muzzle 
applied to the rebel's ear, and in a very few mo- 
ments the rebel was disarmed and on his way to a 
Northern prison. But the bold deeds of the rebels 
in scouting through the Union lines paled before 
the achievements of General Sharpe and his bureau 
of military information. The promotion of this 
bureau was recommended by General Butterfield 
to General Hooper, in 1863, for the purpose of 
ascertaining the numbers, positions, and intentions 
of the enemy. To this bureau was gathered all 
the information of the signal corps and of the 
hundreds of scouts and spies who traversed the 
rebel army and country. Trusty and intelligent 
men were picked from the rank and file of the 
army and placed under command of General 
Sharpe. The first piece of work undertaken by 
the general was to obtain a full roster of Lee's 



104 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

army as it lay on the Rappahannock, the numbers 
and titles of regiments and the names of the corps, 
division, brigade, regimental and company com- 
manders. He picked out General Heath's brigade 
of A. P. Hill's corps as the first one to operate on, 
and by daringly scouting in person through the 
lines of that brigade, conversing with its pickets, 
and mingling with its men, he succeeded in obtain- 
ing not only a full list of its officers, and an accu- 
rate detail of its strength, but a correct description 
of the personal appearance and habits of these 
officers. After mastering Heath's division he 
picked out an intelligent soldier whom he crammed 
with all he knew himself about the division, dressed 
him up in a rebel uniform, and sent him into another 
division of Hill's corps. Of course the man was at 
once apprehended and taken before a provost mar- 
shal, but made such a plain statement, giving the 
names of the officers of the regiments in Heath's 
division, to which he claimed to belong, and describ- 
ing their personal appearance and habits with more 
accuracy than reverence, that he was dismissed, 
with a reprimand for his want of respect for his 
superior officers, and ordered to report back at once 
to his regiment. After looking around him and as- 
certaining everything worth noting with regard to 
the command, he returned to General Sharpe ; and 
thus the particulars, as ascertained by every new 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS IO5 

scout, facilitated the means of getting more. At 
length Sharpe had a roster of the whole of Lee's 
army, and could tell its strength at any time within 
a thousand or so, that thousand being the changing 
mass of stragglers, furloughed, and sick, to whom 
no special location could be assigned. He could 
also tell the name of every officer in that army, 
and rebel generals of divisions might have gone to 
him for information concerning their own subordi- 
nates. The great usefulness of thus possessing the 
precise knowledge of the strength and formation 
of the enemy's forces was particularly illustrated 
at Gettysburg, where the anxious spirits of the 
Union commanders were relieved by ascertaining 
from General Sharpe that every brigade but one 
of Lee's army had been engaged in the fight, and 
that that general had no reserve with which to 
follow success or break defeat. Not least among 
the resources from which valuable information 
was obtained were the contrabands, whose fidelity 
and truthfulness were remarkable, considering 
their want of education, and consequent lack of 
intelligence. 

" Amusing and interesting instances were given 
by the speaker of the hairbreadth escapes and 
reckless daring of General Sharpe's scouts, and he 
concluded an entertaining discourse by paying a 
hearty and well-deserved tribute to their patriotic 



106 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

and fearless devotion, to which was greatly owing, 
in his opinion, the winning of some of our greatest 
victories, and the fortunate issue of the war itself." 
In 1868 the church was completed, a building 
" whose granite walls are so thick, and hard-wood 
finish so substantial, that passing centuries should 
add only the mellowness of age." Edward would 
not allow his name deposited in the corner-stone, 
as many wished, but since his death a bronze tab- 
let, with the following inscription, has been placed 
in the vestibule. 

In Memoriam, 

Rev. Edward Payson Roe, 

Minister of the 

First Presbyterian Ch. of the Highlands. 

1866-1875. 

Author, Pastor, Friend, 

This Building Stands the Monument of 

His Earnest Labors. 

Erected : 



After the completion of the church the old par- 
sonage was enlarged and remodelled, and so during 
his pastorate thirty thousand dollars were raised 
and expended in permanent improvements. 

While living at Highland Falls Edward continu- 
ally met the officers and soldiers of West Point. 
A soldier at one time was the leader of his choir, 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 10/ 

in which was also a quartet from the military band. 
He writes as follows of a mountain camp at West 
Point which recalled some of his own army life : — 

" About the middle of August the Cadet Corps 
left their airy tent villas on the plain at West Point, 
and took up their line of march for the mountains. 
The pioneers had preceded, and the road was prac- 
ticable not only for infantry, but for carriages and 
stages laden with fair ladies from the hotels. The 
selected camping ground, though rough indeed 
compared with the velvet lawns of West Point, was 
admirably adapted for the purpose. It was a 
broken, uneven field, on the property of T. Coz- 
zens, Esq. Here in the midst of the wildest moun- 
tain scenery the young soldiers experienced, to 
quite an extent, the realities of life at the front, 
minus the element of danger. But the mimicry 
was almost perfect, and so suggestive of bygone 
days to an old campaigner, that I cannot refrain 
from indulging in a brief description. 

"A wild, romantic drive of three or four miles 
through winding valleys, jagged boulders and 
ledges, and overshadowing trees, brought us to 
the edge of the camp-ground. Along the road 
ran the familiar military telegraph, the wire now 
looped up to a convenient tree, now sustained by 
the slender portable pole that bends but never 
breaks beneath the seemingly gossamer strand. 



108 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

Just before reaching the place we struck off upon 
one of those temporary roads that we were ever 
extemporizing in Virginia. First we saw the white 
tents through the foliage, then the gleaming of a 
sentry's musket, the cover of an ambulance, and in 
a moment more we were in the midst of the encamp- 
ment, and the spell was complete. Through the 
strong laws of association the old life rushed back 
again, and what often seems a far-away dream was 
as present and real as six years ago. But apart 
from all its suggestiveness to those who dwelt in 
canvas cities and engaged in war's realities, the 
scene was novel, beautiful, and deeply interesting. 
Here in the midst of the wooded highlands was a 
fac-simile, reproduced in miniature, of thousands 
of encampments, created by the Rebellion, in the 
equally wild regions of the Southern States. Here 
were our future generals learning to apply practi- 
cally to the roughness of nature the principles 
and tactics that might seem comparatively easy on 
paper or grassy plain. Sloping down to the right, 
the encampment bordered on Round Pond, a beau- 
tiful, transparent little lake, fringed with water-lilies, 
and mirroring back the rocks and foliage of its 
rugged banks. Through the courtesy of Mr. Coz- 
zens we and others were soon skimming its surface 
in an airy little pleasure boat. A quarter of a mile 
to the left, in full view, with a descent of a hundred 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS IO9 

feet, Long Pond glistened in the bright August 
sun. All around rose the green billowy hills as 
far as the eye could reach. We had hardly noted 
this beautiful commingling of wood and water 
before the stirring notes of the drum announced 
skirmish drill. On each side of the camp a squad 
marched briskly out, and was soon lost in the for- 
est. Soon from its unseen depths there came a 
shot, then another, then several, ending in a rapid, 
scattering fire, and I was back again on the skir- 
mish line in Virginia. By this time the other de- 
tachment had reached position, and were ' popping' 
away in the old familiar style. The hills caught up 
the reports and echoed them down again multiplied 
a hundredfold. 

" Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 
To many mingled sounds at once, 
The awakened mountain gave response ; " 

and these regions of silvan peace and solitude were 
disturbed as they never had been since the days 
when Washington made West Point his military 
base, and Fort Putnam was the chief Highland 
stronghold. 

" On a high eminence to the right fluttered a 
signal flag. I shall never forget the last time that 
my special attention was called to that very signifi- 
cant object. It was on a bold ledge of the Blue 



IIO PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

Ridge west of Culpepper, Va. We were out on 
picket, lounging away a long bright October after- 
noon, when in the far distance a white flutter like 
that of a lady's handkerchief caught the wary eye 
of the colonel. Listlessness vanished. All glasses 
were out, but practised eyes discovered, not a token 
of ladies' favor, but a signal of stern war. Lee was 
turning our right flank, and then followed the 
famous race for Centreville heights. 

" But the sun had sunk behind a blue Highland, 
and the tap of the drum announcing parade re- 
called from reminiscences of the past. Creaking, 
groaning, crunching up the rough road came stages, 
carriages, and wagons of all descriptions laden with 
fair ladies, who in bright summer costumes seemed 
airy indeed, but from the looks of the jaded horses, 
were anything but thistle-downs. The wild moun- 
tain camp was soon brilliant with Fifth Avenue 
toilets. There was a general ' presenting of arms,' 
though not with belligerent aspect, and it required 
no astrologer to predict a conjunction of Mars 
and Venus. Old fogy that I was, recalling the 
days of our humdrum soldiering long and well 
gone by, here I was in the midst of a brilliant 
active campaign, where wounds were given and 
received, human hearts pierced to the very cir- 
cumference — perhaps deeper sometimes. Yon 
tall, soldierly figure of the commandant is a sec- 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS III 

ondary one here. Cupid is the field marshal of 
the day. With the near approach of night there 
was a suspension of hostilities. The fair invaders 
gradually drew off their attacking forces, and soon 
were lost in the deeper shadows that lay at the 
mountain base. The next morning at 8 A. M., 
the Cadet Corps returned to their encampment on 
the plain at West Point." 

My brother's attitude toward West Point is 
clearly shown in the following vigorous defence 
of the National Academy which was published in 
The Evangelist. 

"The Military Academy here has lately had an 
unenviable degree of notoriety and of severe criti- 
cism. Some go so far as to advise the breaking 
up of the entire institution. No one so thought 
when the gallant Reynolds at the cost of his life 
made such vigorous battle at Gettysburg as to 
check Lee, and secure to us a favourable position 
for fighting out the decisive conflict of the war. 
No one so advised when a graduate of West Point 
announced the surrender of Vicksburg-; when an- 
other marched from Atlanta to the sea; and an- 
other swept down the Shenandoah Valley like a 
whirlwind. During our national struggle for life, 
trained soldiers did for us what educated lawyers, 
physicians, clergymen, and statesmen do for a com- 
munity at all times. Next to the courage and pa- 



112 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

triotism of the people, we have to thank the skill 
of West Point, that we are One Nation to-day. 

There are those who advocate State military 
schools, in other words that we have an army 
officered by men of local interests and feelings. 
We shall then have generals to whom a single 
State is more than the whole Union. We shall 
have patriots educated by the New York ring, and 
the champions of Tammany Hall. No, the sol- 
diers and sailors of the United States — as they 
are in the service of the whole country — should 
be educated by the whole country, and upon their 
maps State boundaries should be blotted out. 

" Others advise, instead of this National Acad- 
emy, that a course of military instruction be added 
to our colleges. But in this way students would 
only pick up a smattering of military science, 
in connection with a dozen other sciences, that 
would be quite useless in time of war. If we 
are to be fully armed against attack, we need 
men thoroughly educated in military science by 
the Nation, and therefore bound by every instinct 
of honor, gratitude, and association to defend 
her in her hour of peril. 

" Does West Point now furnish such an educa- 
tion and such men? Yes, as truly as it ever has 
done ; and I think it could be shown that it was 
never in better condition than it is this day. But 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 113 

what does the recent ' outrage ' indicate, and what 
the 'persecution of Cadet Smith?' Living near 
the institution, and yet having no connection with 
it — nothing to gain or lose — I can form as cor- 
rect and unprejudiced an opinion as those who 
base theirs upon partial, imperfect reports of iso- 
lated incidents. One needs but to visit the Point 
daily, or nightly, in order to see that perfect dis- 
cipline is maintained. The ' outrage ' referred to 
was the expelling of three students by the first 
class. This action no one defends. From no 
source have I heard it so severely condemned as 
by the officers themselves. If it could have been 
foreseen it would have been prevented. In the 
most quiet communities there are sudden out- 
breaks of passion and violence. Is the community 
where such an event occurs, and which goes on its 
orderly way the remaining three hundred and 
sixty-four days of the year, to be called ' law- 
less?' Is the hasty, passionate act of a few, 
wrong as it may be, to give character to all? 
Moreover, in judging acts we should consider 
the motives. In this case they throw much light on 
the action. The sentiment of the corps is one of 
intense disgust at the vice of lying. A cadet can- 
not commit a more serious offence against the re- 
ceived code of honor. The parties expelled were 
believed to have been guilty of this offence, and 



114 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

their dismissal was a sudden and lawless expres- 
sion of the general anger and disgust. The action 
was contrary to the character of a soldier — the 
man of discipline and iron rules. But was it con- 
trary to the character of frank, impulsive youth? 
Are those who have scarcely reached their major- 
ity to be judged in the same light as cool, grey- 
bearded veterans? I do not see how the officers 
are to blame because they could not foresee the 
trouble. Is a careful housekeeper ' reckless ' be- 
cause a kerosene lamp explodes? Do you say 
she ought to use non-explosive material? Then 
you must send sexagenarians to West Point in- 
stead of boys. 

" The same principle applies to the ' persecu- 
tion.' Critical editors, and advanced politicians 
like Ben. Butler, require of a class of young men 
gathered from every part of the land what they 
could scarcely obtain from the reformers of New 
England as a body. There is no use in ignoring 
the general and widespread prejudice of race. 
Many who grieve most at the wrongs of the col- 
ored people still feel that instinctive drawing back 
from social contact. Do those that condemn the 
young men most severely introduce the colored 
element largely into their own social circles? If 
not, then they should not be so ready to throw 
stones. Colored cadets sent to West Point must 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS I15 

be treated in precisely the same way as the others. 
The law forms them all into a social community 
with equal rights. Is it to be expected that the 
utmost cordiality should be shown by hot-blooded, 
unformed, and often unwise youth, having in 
somewhat intenser form the same prejudices 
with those who condemn them? They have 
probably acted in the matter very much as the 
sons of the editors and ministers and reformers, 
who have been so severe upon them, would have 
acted in like circumstances. That happy day 
when the brotherhood of the race shall be hon- 
estly and lovingly acknowledged I fear is yet far 
distant, nor is it to be hastened by attempting to 
force a social intercourse against which there may 
be a natural aversion. As far as the officers are 
concerned, I believe that they have tried to treat 
young Smith with strict impartiality, and to give 
him every opportunity. The affairs of the Acad- 
emy seem to go forward like clock-work. Con- 
sidering the sore and excited state of mind among 
the cadets, their order and subordination have 
been remarkable. Of course two hundred and 
fifty young men of the widest difference of char- 
aracter, brought together from every diversity of 
life, could not be expected to act like nicely 
adjusted machines; but with the exception of 
those two affairs, what has there been to justify 



Il6 PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS 

the charges of ' lawlessness ' or ' looseness of 
discipline?' 

" In view of its services, it is strange that any- 
one should speak seriously of breaking up West 
Point. It has paid back to the nation all that has 
been spent upon it a hundredfold. 

" P. S. — May I add a word in regard to the 
commandant of this post, who is the officer who 
has special care of the students in the Academy. 
Political attacks do not spare anybody, and during 
the recent troubles slurs have been thrown out 
even against General Upton. It has been in- 
timated that fear of the authorities at Washington 
has made him over-lenient and slack in his dis- 
cipline toward the first class, as President Grant 
and others high in power have sons in this class. 

" These disparaging remarks are made either by 
those who know nothing of General Upton's char- 
acter and antecedents, or else they are the gross- 
est slanders. Search the army through and it 
would be impossible to find a man more utterly 
devoid of the spirit that truckles to power. Nature 
never put into his composition the least spice of 
obsequiousness, and one has only to look into the 
man's face and hear him speak five words in order 
to know it. He belongs to that class of men who 
pay more attention to the poor and humble than 
to the high and haughty. 



PASTORATE AT HIGHLAND FALLS I 1 7 

" I think my testimony in this matter is worth 
something. During nearly four years of life in the 
army, and five years' residence within one mile of 
the West Point Academy, I have met with a great 
many officers of the volunteer and regular ser- 
vice, and never has a man more thoroughly im- 
pressed me with the fact that he was a gentleman, 
and conscientious in duty even to the slightest 
particular, than General Upton. Moreover, he is 
an enthusiast in his profession, and therefore suc- 
cessful. He is the author of the Infantry Tactics 
now in use in our army, and said to be the finest 
in the world. From frequent intercourse with the 
Point, I know that he maintains a daily discipline 
among the cadets as nearly perfect as anything of 
the kind can be. It is my belief that investigation 
of the recent troubles will show that the institution 
was never better officered than at present. 

" Moreover, General Upton is a sincere Chris- 
tian — one that lives up to his profession. His 
influence in this respect is most marked and happy 
upon the corps. We cannot overestimate the 
importance of the fact that the officer directly in 
charge of the young men at the Point is guided in 
all respects, not only by strict military honor and 
duty, but by the highest Christian principle." 



CHAPTER VIII 

RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 

WHILE at Highland Falls Edward wrote his 
first novel, " Barriers Burned Away." He 
had told of his plan for a story to be based upon 
the scenes he had witnessed among the ruins of 
the great Chicago fire, and when I received a 
letter from him the following winter asking me to 
make him a visit as soon as possible, I suspected 
that he wanted my opinion of what he had written. 
And I was not disappointed, for on the evening 
after my arrival he read to me a number of chap- 
ters, and we talked over his plan for the story until 
after midnight, he going over the outlines that he 
then had in mind, though he afterward made some 
changes. The next day he called upon Dr. Field, 
editor of The Evangelist, and owing to his kind 
encouragement the visit was repeated, the result 
being that the story was finally accepted for serial 
publication in that paper. 

From that time on, my brother read to me 
every one of his stories in manuscript, and I en- 
joyed them the more from the fact that in every 



RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 119 

case I recognized the originals from which he had 
drawn his scenes and characters, idealized as they 
were. 

In 1874 his health had become so much im- 
paired by overwork that his physician strongly 
urged him to give up either writing or preaching. 
After giving the matter serious consideration and 
consulting with friends whose advice he valued, 
my brother reluctantly decided to retire from the 
ministry. How his people parted with him is told 
in a letter to The Eva7igelist, whose readers had 
followed with so much interest and substantial aid 
my brother's efforts to build a new church. 

" I have been very much surprised. Last Sab- 
bath, the 7th of March, was my birthday. On the 
6th I sat quietly in my study until the sun was 
behind the mountains, and then was sent out of 
the house on false pretences. The young people 
of the church were getting up an entertainment, 
and suddenly took it into their heads that they 
needed my assistance. There seemed many de- 
lays, but we at last got through. Then I received 
a startling message that a neighbor wished to see 
me immediately. Surmising sudden illness or 
trouble, I did not go home, but started off in great 
haste. I found not sickness, but mystery, at this 
neighbor's, which I could not fathom. My friend 
and his wife were unusually entertaining and I 



120 RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 

could not get away, though I knew I was keeping 
tea waiting at home. Finally there came another 
mysterious message — ' Two gentlemen and two 
ladies wished to see me at the parsonage.' ' O, I 
understand now,' I thought. ' It is a wedding; 
but they are managing it rather oddly.' 

" But imagine my surprise when I opened the 
door, and found about one hundred and fifty peo- 
ple present. Well, to be brief, they just over- 
whelmed us with kindness. They gave us fine 
music, and provided a supper for five hundred in- 
stead of one hundred and fifty. 

" Mrs. Roe thought that she was in the secret ; 
but they surprised her also by presenting, with cor- 
dial words, a handsome sum of money at the close 
of the evening. 

" My resignation has not yet been accepted, but 
we expect that the pastoral relation will be dis- 
solved at the next meeting of Presbytery. As 
soon as spring comes in reality, and the embargo 
of ice and snow is over, we must be upon the 
wing; and this spontaneous and hearty proof of 
the friendliness of my people was very grateful to 
me. During the nine years of my pastorate they 
have been called to pass through many trying and 
difficult times. They have often been asked to 
give beyond their means, and have often done so. 
With the very limited amount of wealth in the 



RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 121 

congregation, even the generous aid received from 
abroad and from visitors could not prevent the 
effort to erect a new church and parsonage from 
being an exceedingly heavy burden, involving per- 
plexing and vexatious questions. When I remem- 
ber how patiently they have borne these burdens, 
how hard many have worked, and how many in- 
stances of genuine self-denial there have been, I 
feel that too much cannot be said in their praise. 
It is my hope and my belief that they will deal 
as kindly with my successor as they have with 
me. 

Dr. Edgar A. Mearns of the United States army 
was one of my brother's devoted friends who 
knew him intimately during the years of his min- 
istry. In 1888, from Fort Snelling, Minn., he 
writes as follows : — 

" The sad news of the death of Rev. E. P. Roe, 
at Cornwall-on-Hudson, reached me to-day, and 
filled my heart with sadness. During the long 
years of my sojourn upon the western frontier, I 
have looked forward with unspeakable pleasure to 
the time when I could grasp the hand of this true 
friend, and walk and talk with him, and enjoy 
once more the society of his dear family. I had 
planned a leave of absence from my station in the 
desert-wilderness of Arizona for last spring, in re- 
sponse to his urgent invitations ; but other duties 



122 RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 

awaited me, and I was not permitted to realize the 
fulfilment of this ardent desire. We were to walk 
through the woodlands, drive over the mountains, 
and sail on our native Hudson. I saw in mental 
vision the very rock under which we used to poke 
at the woodchucks with a stick, and on which we 
gathered the walking fern, and seemed once more 
to hear him discoursing of small fruits in his de- 
lightful garden, or reading to the family circle 
from his latest manuscripts. In the West many 
hearts have been pierced by this sorrow, for he 
made friends wherever he went. 

" To write a word of the lost friend, who has 
been a very pillar of support in times of struggle 
or affliction, will perhaps relieve a pain at the 
heart which is hard to bear. It is not as an author, 
justly celebrated, that I must speak of him, but of 
the private life of one who combined every attri- 
bute of mind and heart to endear him to his 
friends. I have known him as a pastor, laboring 
assiduously among the members of his flock, dis- 
pensing liberal charity among the poor, and light- 
ening everybody's burden. He was a rock to lay 
hold of when other friendships were borne away 
by the cruel winds of adversity. Then it was that 
the genial warmth of his smile, the kindly hand- 
pressure, and the cheerful encouragement of his 
voice fettered sore hearts to his. 



RESIGNATION FROM THE MINISTRY 1 23 

" I have seen him as a hero, struggling in the 
water and broken ice, bearing in his arms the 
bodies of children for whom he risked his life. 
He had heard a cry for help, and that alone was 
enough to enlist the sympathy and secure the 
highest sacrifice of which our nature is capable. 
Then, paying no heed to personal sickness and in- 
jury, he strove to comfort the bereaved hearts of 
mothers, whose boys were drowned, perhaps by 
exposure laying the seeds of the disease which 
recently caused his death. 

" His zealous devotion to his calling, together 
with exposure to various hardships encountered 
on frequent lecturing tours made for the purpose 
of obtaining funds for the erection of a suitable 
church for his congregation, made such inroads 
into his naturally vigorous constitution that, having 
accomplished his task, he was compelled to resign 
his charge as pastor, after about nine years of 
faithful service. The beautiful stone Presbyterian 
church at Highland Falls is a monument to his 
untiring efforts." 



CHAPTER IX 

FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

AFTER my brother's resignation from the min- 
istry, he bought a plain, old-fashioned house 
with considerable ground about it, at Cornwall-on- 
the-Hudson, two miles distant from his childhood 
home, and went there to live. 

It soon became evident, however, that Edward 
could not depend upon his literary work alone for 
the support of his growing family. He had for 
some years taken much interest in the cultivation 
of small fruits, and after the removal to Cornwall 
he carried on this work upon a larger scale, finding 
it profitable as well as interesting. 

I remember the piles of letters that came to him 
each day for several years containing orders for 
plants. Although in general not a methodical 
man, yet the painstaking care which he was known 
to exercise in keeping the many varieties distinct 
enabled his customers to rely implicitly upon his 
statements as to the kind and value of the plants 
ordered. He often employed many men and boys 
on his place, but always engaged them with the 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 1 25 

understanding that if through carelessness the 
varieties of plants became mixed the offender was 
to be dismissed at once, and a few examples soon 
taught his assistants that he meant what he said. 
But when they were faithful to their duty, they 
invariably found him considerate and kind. 

The strawberry was Edward's favorite among 
the small fruits, and he made many experiments 
with new varieties. When the vines were bearing, 
sometimes as many as forty bushels of berries were 
picked in a single day. Some of them were of 
mammoth size. I remember on one occasion we 
took from a basket four berries which filled to the 
brim a large coffee-cup, and notwithstanding their 
enormous size they were solid and sweet. During 
this period he wrote the articles on " Success with 
Small Fruits," published in Scribner's Magazine. 

Currants came next in his favor. Writing of 
them he says : " Let me recommend the currant 
cure. If any one is languid, depressed in spirits, 
inclined to headaches, and generally ' out of sorts/ 
let him finish his breakfast daily for a month with 
a dish of freshly picked currants. He will soon 
doubt his own identity, and may even think that 
he is becoming a good man. In brief, the truth of 
the ancient pun will be verified, 'That the power 
to live a good life depends largely upon the liver' 
Let it be taught at the theological seminaries that 



126 FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

the currant is a means of grace. It is a corrective, 
and that is what average humanity most needs." 

Mr. Charles Downing of Newburgh, a noted 
horticulturist, was Edward's valued friend. He 
was especially successful in fruit culture, and it was 
his custom to forward to my brother for trial novel- 
ties sent to him from every part of the country. 
Then on pleasant summer afternoons the old gen- 
tleman would visit my brother, and, side by side, 
they would compare the much-heralded strangers 
with the standard varieties. Often forty or fifty 
kinds were bearing under precisely the same con- 
ditions. The two lovers of Nature thus gained 
knowledge of many of her secrets. 

Edward's coming to live in Cornwall was a source 
of great pleasure to our father, who, although then 
past eighty years of age, was still vigorous, and as 
full of enthusiasm for his garden as when he first 
moved to the country. Often on summer morn- 
ings, before the sun was fairly above the eastern 
mountains, father would drive over to my brother's, 
taking in his phaeton a basket of fruit or vege- 
tables that he believed were earlier than any in my 
brother's garden. These he would leave at the 
front door for Edward to discover when he came 
downstairs, and return in time for our breakfast. 
He would laugh with the keenest enjoyment if he 
found that his beans or sweet corn had ripened 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 1 27 

first. Frequently he would remain at his son's 
house for breakfast, and afterwards the two would 
wander together over the grounds while the dew 
was still fresh upon the fruit and flowers. Many 
of the rosebushes and shrubs had been transplanted 
from the old garden, and it delighted my father 
and brother to see that they were flourishing and 
blooming in their new environment. 

When Edward first moved to Cornwall several 
newspapers severely criticised him for giving up 
the ministry to write novels. I was sitting with 
him alone in his library one day when such a criti- 
cism came to him through the mail. After reading 
it he handed it quietly to me, went to his desk and 
took down a bundle of letters, saying: "These 
are mostly from young men, not one of whom I 
know, who have written to me of the benefit re- 
ceived from my books." He then read to me 
some of those touching letters of confession and 
thanks for his inspiring help to a better life. 

When he finished reading the letters he said : " I 
know my books are read by thousands ; my voice 
reached at most but a few hundred. I believe 
many who would never think of writing to me 
such letters as these are also helped. Do you 
think I have made a mistake? My object in writ- 
ing, as in preaching, is to do good, and the ques- 
tion is, Which can I do best? I think with the 



128 FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

pen, and I shall go on writing, no matter what 
the critics say." 

Still his name was retained on the rolls of the 
North River Presbytery, and he was always ready 
to preach when needed, especially in neglected 
districts. For a long time after father's death he 
kept up the little Sunday-school that had been 
father's special care. 

His home commanded a fine view of the river 
and mountains, and he would watch with great 
delight the grand thunder-storms that so often 
sweep over the Highlands. I take this description 
of a storm from one of his letters : — - 

" This moist summer has given a rich, dark lux- 
uriance to the foliage, that contrasts favorably 
to the parched, withered aspect of everything last 
year. The oldest inhabitants (that class so sorely 
perplexed in this age of innovations) were aston- 
ished to learn that a sharp frost occurred in the 
mountains back of us, just before the Fourth. 
Even the seasons have caught the infection of the 
times, and no longer continue their usual jog-trot 
through the year, but indulge in the strangest 
extremes and freaks. 

" A person living in the city can have little idea 
of thunder-storms as they occur in this mountain 
region. The hills about us, while they attract the 
electrified clouds, are also our protection, for, 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 1 29 

abounding in iron ore, they become huge lightning- 
rods above the houses and hamlets at their bases. 
But little recks old Bear Mountain, or Cro' Nest, 
Jove's most fiery bolts. The rocky splinters fly 
for a moment; some oak or chestnut comes quiv- 
ering down ; but soon the mosses, like kindly 
charity, have covered up the wounded rock, and 
three or four saplings have grown from the roots 
of the blighted tree. 

" But the storm we witness from our safe and 
sheltered homes is often grand beyond descrip- 
tion. At first, in the distant west, a cloud rises so 
dark that you can scarcely distinguish it from a 
blue highland. But a low muttering of thunder 
vibrates through the sultry air, and we know what 
is coming. Soon the afternoon sun is shaded, and 
a deep, unnatural twilight settles upon the land- 
scape like the shadow of a great sorrow on a face 
that was smiling a moment before. The thunder 
grows heavier, like the rumble and roar of an 
approaching battle. The western arch of the sky 
is black as night. The eastern arch is bright and 
sunny, and as you glance from side to side, you 
cannot but think of those who, comparatively inno- 
cent and happy at first, cloud their lives in maturer 
years with evil and crime, and darken the future 
with the wrath of heaven. At last the vanguard 
of black flying clouds, disjointed, jagged, the rough 

9 



130 FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

skirmish line of the advancing storm, is over our 
heads. Back of these, in one dark, solid mass, 
comes the tempest. For a moment there is a sort 
of hush of expectation, like the lull before a battle. 
The trees on the distant brow of a mountain are 
seen to toss and writhe, but as yet no sound is 
heard. Soon there is a faint, far-away rushing 
noise, the low, deep prelude of nature's grand 
musical discord that is to follow. There is a vivid 
flash, and a startling peal of thunder breaks forth 
overhead, and rolls away with countless reverbera- 
tions among the hills. In the meantime the dis- 
tant rushing sound has developed into an increasing 
roar. Half-way down the mountain-side the trees 
are swaying wildly. At the base stands a grove, 
motionless, expectant, like a square of infantry 
awaiting an impetuous cavalry charge. In a mo- 
ment it comes. At first the shock seems terrible. 
Every branch bends low. Dead limbs rattle down 
like hail. Leaves, torn away, fly wildly through 
the air. But the sturdy trunks stand their ground, 
and the baffled tempest passes on. Mingling with 
the rush of the wind and reverberations of thunder, 
a new sound, a new part now enters into the grand 
harmony. At first it is a low, continuous roar, 
caused by the falling rain upon the leaves. It 
grows louder fast, like the pattering feet of a com- 
ing multitude. Then the great drops fall around, 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 131 

yards apart, like scattering shots. They grow 
closer, and soon a streaming torrent drives you to 
shelter. The next heavy peal is to the eastward, 
showing that the bulk of the shower is past. The 
roar of the thunder just dies away down the river. 
The thickly falling rain contracts your vision to a 
narrow circle, out of which Cozzens's great hotel 
and Bear Mountain loom vaguely. The flowers 
and shrubbery bend to the moisture with the air 
of one who stands and takes it. The steady, con- 
tinuous plash upon the roof slackens into a quiet 
pattering of raindrops. The west is lightening up ; 
by and by a long line of blue is seen above Cro' 
Nest. The setting sun shines out upon a purified 
and more beautiful landscape. Every leaf, every 
spear of grass is brilliant with gems of moisture. 
The cloud scenery has all changed. The sun is 
setting in unclouded splendor. Not the west but 
the east is now black with storm ; but the rainbow, 
emblem of hope and God's mercy, spans its black- 
ness, and in the skies we again have suggested to 
us a life, once clouded and darkly threatened by 
evil, but now, through penitence and reform, end- 
ing in peace and beauty, God spanning the wrong 
of the past with His rich and varied promises of for- 
giveness. At last the skies are clear again. Along 
the eastern horizon the retreating storm sends 
up occasional flashes, that seem like regretful 



132 FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

thoughts of the past. Then night comes on, cool, 
moonlit, breathless. Not a leaf stirs where an 
hour before the sturdiest limbs bent to the earth. 
This must be nature's commentary on the ' peace 
that passeth all understanding.' " 

At this period Dr. Lyman Abbott made his 
permanent home in Cornwall, going almost daily 
to the city to attend to his duties as editor of the 
Christian Union. 

In a short article written for that paper my 
brother describes a drive taken over the mountains 
when Dr. Abbott was entertaining the Brooklyn 
Association of Congregational Ministers. 

" Pleasures long planned and anticipated often 
prove ' flat, stale, and unprofitable ' when at last 
they disappoint us in their sorry contrast with our 
hopes, while on the other hand good times that 
come unexpectedly are enjoyed all the more 
keenly because such agreeable surprises. The 
other morning the editor of the Christian Union, 
Dr. Lyman Abbott, who is a near neighbor and a 
nearer friend, appeared at my door with the an- 
nouncement that he was to meet on the morrow at 
the West Point landing the New York and Brook- 
lyn Association of Congregational Ministers, at the 
same time giving me an invitation to accompany 
him, which I accepted on the spot. The morning 
of the 27th found us leading an array of carriages 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 1 33 

up the Cornwall slope of the mountain, for it had 
been arranged that the gentlemen whom Mr. and 
Mrs. Abbott were to entertain for the day should 
land at West Point and enjoy one of the finest 
drives in America across the Highlands, instead of 
a prosaic ride down from Newburgh through the 
brickyards. The Albany day boat was on time, 
and so were we, and there stepped on shore a ven- 
erable body of divinity, or rather several bodies, 
led by Rev. Henry Ward Beecher and his brother, 
Dr. Edward Beecher. A shower the previous 
evening had left less dust than could be found in 
the immaculate parlor of a spinster, and the heated 
air had been cooled to such a nicety of adjustment 
that we grew warm in the praise of its balminess. 
With much good-natured badinage and repartee 
we climbed the West Point hill and took the outer 
avenue that skirts the river edge of the plain and 
campus. ' The brethren ' gazed with mild curi- 
osity at ' Flirtation Walk' where it led demurely 
and openly from the main road, but soon lost it- 
self in winding intricacies, mysterious copsewood, 
and the still deeper mysteries suggested by the 
imagination. Let no grave reader lift a disdainful 
nose. Perhaps this same secluded path of frivo- 
lous name has had a greater influence on human 
destiny than himself. 

" The trim plain and trimmer cadets were soon 



134 FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 

left far behind, and nature began to wear the as- 
pect it had shown to our great grandfathers when 
children. Through the skilful engineering of Mr. 
Charles Caldwell, a most excellent road of easy 
grades winds across Cro' Nest and Butter Hill 
(the latter was rechristened ' Storm King ' some 
years since by the poet, N. P. Willis). As our 
path zigzagged up the shaggy sides of Cro' Nest, 
wider and superber views opened out before us, 
until at last West Point with its gleaming tents, 
the winding river with its silver sheen, and the 
village of Cold Spring lay at our feet, while to the 
southwest a multitude of green highlands lifted 
their crests like a confusion of emerald waves. A 
few moments more brought us to the summit, and 
although we were but a thousand feet nearer 
heaven than when we started, the air was so pure 
and sweet and the sky so blue that it might well 
seem to those who had so recently left the stifling 
city that they had climbed half-way thither. A 
half an hour's ride brought us to the northern 
slope of the mountains. Here we made a halt at 
Mr. Cobb's ' School on the Heights,' and were en- 
tertained with unlimited cherries, which by some 
strange providence had escaped the boys, and also 
by some exceedingly interesting gymnastic exer- 
cises that were performed to the rhythm of gay 
music. There are probaby few finer views on the 



FRUIT CULTURE AND LITERARY WORK 1 35 

river than that from Mr. Cobb's piazza and 
grounds, and thus his pupils are under the best of 
influences out of doors as well as within. As Mr. 
Abbott's guests looked down upon the broad ex- 
panse of Newburgh Bay, the city itself, the pict- 
uresque village of Cornwall, and the great swale 
of rich diversified country that lay between our 
lofty eyrie and the dim and distant Shawangunk 
Mountains that blended with the clouds, they must 
have felt indebted to their host for one of the 
richest pleasures of their lives. 

" At last Mr. Beecher said that he carried an 
internal clock which plainly intimated that it was 
time for dinner. The descensus was easy, but Mrs. 
Abbott's warm welcome and hot dinner suggested 
an avernus only by blissful contrast. The fun, wit, 
and jollity of the remainder of the evening can no 
more be reproduced than the sparkle of yesterday's 
dew or the ripple of yesterday's waves. It was a 
pleasant thing to see those gray-haired men, many 
of whom had been burdened with care more than 
half a century, becoming boy-like again in feeling 
and mirthfulness." 

During Edward's residence in Cornwall, each 
year about the middle of June, when the roses and 
strawberries were in their prime, it was his custom 
to send an annual invitation to the Philolethean 
Club of clergymen in New York City to visit him 



136 FRUIT CULUTRE AND LITERARY WORK 

for a day at his home. Dr. Howard Crosby, Dr. 
Lyman Abbott, Dr. Schaeffer, and many other 
well-known clergymen were members of this club. 
At these meetings the learned and dignified clergy- 
men threw aside all formality and were like a com- 
pany of college boys off for a frolic. Their keen 
wit, quick repartee, and droll stories at these times 
will never be forgotten by those privileged to 
listen. 

In 1882 heavy financial loss came upon us as a 
family owing to the failure of an elder brother. 
Edward, in his efforts to help him, became deeply 
involved, and to satisfy his creditors was obliged 
to sell the copyrights of several of his earlier 
books. These were bought by a friend without 
his knowledge at the time. After several years of 
incessant labor he worked his way out of these 
difficulties, and, owing to the immense sale of his 
books, was able to redeem his copyrights. He 
then felt free to take rest and change of scene in a 
trip to Southern California. 



CHAPTER X 

HOME LIFE 

AS a matter of course, my brother had frequent 
calls from newspaper correspondents and 
others who were interested in, and curious about, 
the private life of a successful author. The first 
of the articles here quoted was entitled " A Talk 
with E. P. Roe," and was printed in a Brooklyn 
newspaper in 1886; the second appeared in a 
Detroit journal. 

" The works of few novelists of the present day 
have had such remarkable sales as those of Mr. E. 
P. Roe, and this will be the more readily granted 
when it is known that one million copies of his 
novels have been sold in America alone, to which 
nearly one-half of that number may be added as 
representing their sale in England, Canada, Aus- 
tralia, and the different languages into which they 
have been translated. 

" In appearance the novelist is a man of a trifle 
over the medium size, with a pleasant, intellectual 
face, which is almost covered with a rich and 
handsome coal-black beard and mustache. Mr. 



138 HOME LIFE 

Roe is in the prime of manhood, being about 
forty-five years of age, and his manners and con- 
versation are the most kindly and engaging. He 
is of a generous disposition, hospitable, a kind 
friend, and never happier than when in the bosom 
of his family, to which he is devotedly attached. 

" It was the pleasure of the writer a few even- 
ings ago to meet the novelist and engage him in 
conversation regarding himself and his works. 

" ' I have just returned from an afternoon stroll/ 
remarked the novelist. * This is my invariable 
custom after my day's work. When do I work? 
Well, I generally sit down immediately after break- 
fast, which I have about eight o'clock, and with 
the exception of an hour for lunch, I write con- 
tinuously from that time until three or four in the 
afternoon. Then I go out for my walk.' 

" ' You never work at night, then ? ' was asked. 

" ' No ; it is a bad practice, and one that I rarely 
indulge in. There was a time when I did so, but 
my work always showed it. A writer's work at 
night is almost always morbid. There is no better 
time to work than during the morning.' 

" ' How much work constitutes a day's labor 
with you?' 

" ' That varies a great deal. Sometimes I write 
four or five pages of foolscap, and other days I 
will write as much as fifteen. I have no average, 



HOME LIFE 139 

but do as much as I feel like doing, or have time 
to do, and then I stop.' 

" ' Do you derive genuine pleasure from your 
work ? ' 

" ' Always, for I am absorbed in whatever I am 
writing. I presume I derived the most pleasure 
from my " Nature's Serial Story," for it was an 
out-of-door study, and anything about nature 
always finds a responsive chord in me. Then, 
two of the characters of that work portray my 
father and my mother, and their memory is 
blessed and sacred to me. All the other char- 
acters are imaginary.' 

" * Are your stories and novels based on facts 
and real happenings, as a rule? ' 

" ' In every case,' replied Mr. Roe. ' I never 
manufacture a story; I couldn't do it. Of course, 
I elaborate and idealize, but the actual facts are 
always drawn from real life. I am always on the 
alert for these incidents, and when I see one that I 
think is adapted for a story I make a note of it.' 

" ' Speaking of your correspondence, like that of 
most authors, I presume it is of a various nature? ' 

" ' Yes, indeed/ laughingly replied the novelist. 
* It is surprising what letters I sometimes receive, 
and how difficult it is for some persons to realize 
that an author's time is valuable. Of course, I am 
not a stranger to the autograph craze, and of these 



140 HOME LIFE 

requests I receive, I think, more than my share. 
But what is most surprising is the number of man- 
uscripts I receive from young, aspiring authors. 
I am often asked " to read them, revise them care- 
fully, and express an opinion as to the merit of 
the contribution. " Why, I have frequently been 
requested to do a whole month's work on a single 
manuscript. What do I do with these? Well, the 
best I can. If I have a spare moment, I look 
over the story or article, and encourage the writer, 
if possible. But at times the supply is too great 
for physical endurance/ 

" ' What exercise do you most indulge in, and 
what particular one do you recommend? ' 

" ' So far as I am concerned, I like a good, long 
walk, and this is what I would recommend to all 
who work with the brain and are confined. Exer- 
cise should never, in my opinion, be taken before 
sitting down to work, always after the task of the 
day has been completed. Then one receives far 
more benefit from it than if taken before work. I 
also like to work in my garden, and there is hardly 
a better means of exercise. Hunting and fishing 
are also favorite sports with me, and I keep a good 
gun and a fishing-rod close at hand.' 

" ' Have you entirely given up gardening for 
literature? ' 

" * Yes, almost entirely, even in an amateur way. 



HOME LIFE 141 

Of course I still retain an active interest in every- 
thing that is interesting or new about a garden or 
a farm. But as to any active participation, as 
formerly, I have been obliged to desist.' 

" It may be interesting here to mention that the 
grounds surrounding Mr. Roe's rural retreat at 
Cornwall-on-the-Hudson show no lack of proper 
care and attention. The property consists of 
twenty-three acres and is all cultivated for floral 
and farming purposes. The novelist has on these 
grounds alone over one hundred and twelve differ- 
ent varieties of grapes, and has had in his strawberry 
beds seventy different varieties of that luscious 
berry in bearing at one time. One year Mr. Roe's 
orchards yielded him, among other products, one 
hundred and fifty barrels of apples, and this year 
about forty bushels of pears will be taken from his 
trees. 

" ' What are your immediate plans?' was asked 
the novelist, as he courteously showed the writer 
into the dining-room in response to the merry 
jingle of the dinner-bell. 

" 1 1 am now taking a brief holiday, resting from 
overwork. In about two months I leave the North 
for Santa Barbara, California, where I may remain 
for a year, or may return next spring. All depends 
upon how my family and myself like the country 
there. I go there partly for pleasure and partly 



142 HOME LIFE 

for work. I shall doubtless gather considerable 
new material, and this I shall incorporate in future 
works. I shall study the life of the people of that 
region, and intend more especially to devote my- 
self to studying nature in the direction of trees, 
plants, as well as the animals, birds, etc., of that 
charming country. My return North is uncertain, 
as I have said, and should everything prove 
agreeable, I may extend my residence there 
indefinitely/ 

" And here ended the writer's chat with per- 
haps the most popular author of the day. Mr. 
Roe is extremely retiring in disposition ; he never 
courts notoriety, but always strictly avoids it 
whenever possible. And with his large black 
slouched hat set carelessly on his head a stranger 
would more readily mistake him for a Cuban 
planter, with his dark complexion, than the author 
of the novels which have entered into thousands 
of American homes." 

" Cornwall is situated on the western bank of 
the Hudson, just north of the Highlands. If you 
arrive by steamer you find an energetic crowd of 
'bus men, who are eager to be of service to you. 
Most of the vehicles have four horses attached, 
which seem to tell of a hill in the neighborhood. 
We passed Cornwall several times by boat, and 
saw enough of the energy of the hackmen to make 



HOME LIFE I43 

us resolve to reach the place some time when 
they were absent. Consequently we sailed down 
on Cornwall as General Wolfe sailed down on 
Quebec — in- a small boat, and captured the place 
easily. 

" As we walked up the rickety steps that lead 
from the water to the wharf, there was no deputa- 
tion there to meet us. 

" ' Now the first thing/ said my companion, ' is 
to find out where Mr. Roe lives.' 

" ' No, that 's the second thing,' I replied. ' The 
first thing is to find out where we are to get 
supper.' 

" The reasonableness of this proposal was so 
apparent that further remark was not so necessary 
as finding a hotel well stocked with provisions. 

" We found it in the shape of an unpretentious 
brick structure at the foot of the hill. By the way, 
everything is at the foot of the hill at Cornwall 
Landing. The landlady, who was the pink of 
neatness, promised us all we could eat on our re- 
turn, although if she had known my talents in that 
line she would have hesitated. I noticed that she 
referred to ' Mr. Roe, the author,' while our fellow 
voyager in the small boat spoke of him as ' the 
strawberry man.' Probably the boor who relished 
the production of Mr. Roe's garden would have 
been surprised to know that the productions of 



144 HOME LIFE 

his pen were even more sought after than that 
delicious fruit. 

" But evening is coming on and we have a long 
hill before us, so we must proceed. A Cornwall 
road is always either going up or down, and a per- 
son gets great opportunities for rising in the world 
as he turns his back on the Hudson and climbs 
to Cornwall. The road winds up the hill, often 
shaded by trees and always accompanied by a 
mountain torrent whose rocky bed lies deep be- 
side the pathway. This stream lacks only one 
thing to make it a success — and that is water. 
No doubt after a heavy rain it would show com- 
mendable enterprise, but now the rocks were dry. 
A thin thread of clear spring water trickled along 
the bottom of the ravine, now forming a silvery- 
toned waterfall, then losing itself among the loose 
rocks, next finding itself again, and sometimes 
making the mistake which humanity often makes, 
of spreading itself too much and trying to put on 
the airs of larger streams. 

" Half-way up is a spring, surrounded by benches, 
welcome to the pedestrian who finds tramping up- 
hill business. The clear, cold water pours out, 
and an iron dipper, like Prometheus ' chained to a 
pillar/ invites the thirsty to have a drink. The 
benches form a semicircle around this fountain, 
and on the backs thereof some one has painted in 



HOME LIFE 145 

large letters the legend ' Please don't cut an old 
friend.' But i excelsior ' is our motto, and we 
climb. When we reach the top of the mountain 
we part company with the rivulet, thinking, with 
perhaps a sigh, what a vast advantage water has 
over people — it always goes down hill. Cornwall 
now begins to show its beauties. It seems to be a 
big village composed of splendid residences and 
elegant family hotels — or rather huge summer 
boarding-houses. Excellent roads run in all direc- 
tions, up and down, turning now to the right and 
now to the left, until a stranger loses all idea of the 
points of the compass. 

" About a mile from the landing, if you are in a 
carriage, or about five miles if you are on foot, 
you come to an open gateway, through which a 
road turns that might be mistaken for one of the 
many offshoots of the public street, were it not 
that a notice conspicuously posted up informs the 
traveller that the way is private property. A cot- 
tage, probably a gardener's residence, stands be- 
side the gate. The land slopes gently downward 
from the road and then rises beyond, leaving a 
wide valley between the street and a large two- 
story frame building that stands on the rising 
ground. This is the home of E. P. Roe, author of 
' Barriers Burned Away,' ' Opening of a Chestnut 
Burr,' ' From Jest to Earnest,' and other well-known 



146 HOME LIFE 

works, read and enjoyed by thousands in America 
and in England. Between the house and the road 
are long rows of strawberry plants that looked 
tempting even in September. The house stands 
in about the centre of a plot of twenty-three acres. 
The side is toward the road, and a broad piazza 
runs along the length of it, from which glimpses of 
the distant Hudson can be had through the frame- 
work of trees and hills. The piazza is reached by 
broad steps, and is high enough from the ground 
to make a grand tumbling-off place for the numer- 
ous jovial and robust youngsters that romp around 
there and call Mr. Roe * papa.' A wide hall runs 
through the centre of the house, and the whole 
dwelling has a roomy air that reminds one of the 
generous and hospitable mansions for which the 
South is famous. Mr. Roe's house is without any 
attempt at architectural ornamentation, unless the 
roof window in the centre can be called an orna- 
ment ; but there is something very homelike about 
the place, something that is far beyond the powers 
of architecture to supply. 

" My fellow-traveller sat down in one of the rural 
chairs that stood invitingly on the piazza, and I 
manipulated the door-bell. 

" While the servant is coming to open the door 
I may as well confess that I have undertaken to 
write the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out. 



HOME LIFE I47 

" Mr. Roe was not at home. 

" I tell this now so that the reader will not be 
disappointed when the girl opens the door. 

" The door opens. 

" Could we see Mr. Roe? 

" Mr. Roe had left that very morning for New 
York. 

" ' He evidently heard in some way we were 
coming,' said my companion, sotto voce. 

" When would he return? 

" Perhaps not this week. Would we walk in and 
see Mrs. Roe? 

" The next thing to seeing an author is to see 
the author's wife, so we accepted the invitation and 
walked into the parlor. Before we walked out we 
came to the conclusion that the next thing to see- 
ing the author's wife is to see the author. 

" Now, of course, I might have taken an inven- 
tory of the articles in the parlor, just as if I were a 
deputy sheriff, or a tax collector, or something of 
that sort, but I did n't. I might tell of the piano 
that stood in one corner and the pile of music that 
reached from the floor to the top of it, and of the 
little table covered with stereoscopic views, and 
the photograph of Mr. Roe framed above it, and 
of the two low front windows with their river view 
and their lace curtains, and the large folding-doors 
opening into the library, the workshop of Mr. Roe, 



148 HOME LIFE 

and of the quiet, neutral tints of the carpet, or the 
many contents of the whatnot in the corner, and 
the paintings and engravings on the walls, and the 
comfortable easy-chairs, and the books scattered 
here and there, and of dozens of other things that 
made up an author's parlor, but I will not mention 
one of them. 

" I had the idea that E. P. Roe was a kindly old 
gentleman with gray hair. Kindly he undoubt- 
edly is, but old he is not. His portrait shows him 
to have a frank, manly countenance, with an earnest 
and somewhat sad expression. He has dark hair 
and a full beard, long and black. Mr. Roe is at 
present writing a series of articles on small fruits 
for Scribner's Magazine. The publishers of that 
periodical intend to give a portrait of Mr. Roe, 
which will be the first ever published. It may 
appear in the December number, and if it does the 
readers of this paper are respectfully referred to 
the pages of that magazine. It seems to be the 
general idea that Mr. Roe is an old man. For 
instance, a lady writing from Wheeling, W. Va., to 
The Household a few weeks since, says : — 

" < Some one asked if Rev. E. P. Roe had taken his 
characters from life or not. Several years ago we had 
amongst us a certain Professor Roe (vocal teacher, pos- 
sessing a beautiful tenor voice), said to be a son of 
the novelist. If he was a son, the character of Walter 



HOME LIFE 149 

Gregory in " Opening of a Chestnut Burr " was certainly 
drawn from him, and it always seemed to me that Dennis 
Fleet's wonderful voice in " Barriers Burned Away " was 
likened to his voice.' 

" If this writer could have seen the youthful ap- 
pearance of Mrs. Roe, she would have no hesitation 
in denying the professor's alleged relationship to 
the novelist. Her husband is not yet forty. 

"I wish Scribners would publish a portrait of 
Mrs. Roe. It would certainly add to the popu- 
larity of the magazine. Such a lady must be a 
wonderful help to her husband. I think, as a gen- 
eral thing, the world gives too little credit to the 
power behind the throne. 

" Mrs. Roe deserves at least half the credit 
of ' Barriers Burned Away/ which is certainly 
E. P. Roe's most dramatic work, and had, no 
doubt, a great deal to do with many of his other 
volumes. This particular work describes the thrill- 
ing scenes of the Chicago fire with a vividness and 
power that is rarely surpassed. When the whole 
world was thrilled by the dreadful tidings of a 
city's destruction, Mr. Roe said to his wife that if 
he could collect some of the actual occurrences 
that must be transpiring there he thought he could 
write a book about it. Mrs. Roe at once decided 
for him. Her advice was that so tersely put by 
Mr. Greeley. Although nearly a thousand miles 



150 HOME LIFE 

intervened, Mr. Roe was in Chicago before the fire 
had ceased, and the incidents so graphically de- 
picted in ' Barriers Burned Away ' were the result 
of actual observation. 

" Most of Mr. Roe's characters are taken from 
real life, and all of his works are written for a pur- 
pose, as can readily be seen in * What Can She 
Do?' for example. His next book, which will 
be published in a few days, will furnish another 
instance of writing for a purpose. Its title is, 
' Without a Home ; ' the subject it treats is the 
tenement-house problem, which is at present agi- 
tating New York and all large cities. In this work 
the scenes and personages will be nearly all from 
real life. If the book were not in press the tene- 
ment-house fires in New York on Friday, causing 
the death of seven persons, would furnish a tragic 
climax to his story. What could be more terribly 
pathetic than the frantic mother penned in by the 
smoke and flame, dragging herself to the bedside 
of her children to die with them? In choosing the 
evils of the tenement-house system as a subject, 
Mr. Roe strikes at one of the worst features of 
city life. 

" It was to finish the last pages of this book that 
Mr. Roe was now ' Without a Home ' himself, and 
as the printers were clamoring for copy, he had 
betaken himself to a room in a New York hotel 



HOME LIFE 151 

to write without interruption. Mr. Roe is too 
good-natured to deny himself to visitors, and they 
make great inroads on his time. 

" ' If he hears the voice of a friend,' said Mrs. 
Roe, ' he cannot remain at his desk.' 

" So when there is work that must be done, Mr. 
Roe banishes himself from home and friends and 
flies to that loneliness which only a great and 
crowded city can supply. 

" Mrs. Roe's favorite book is * The Opening of a 
Chestnut Burr,' and this must be a favorite work 
with many, for it has reached its thirtieth thousand, 
not to mention the numerous reprints in England 
and Canada. The realistic incident in this work, 
which supplies the place the Chicago fire does in 
the other, is the sinking in mid ocean of the French 
steamer Ville d'Havre. 

" I think, although it is only mere conjecture on 
my part, that Mrs. Roe herself is the heroine of 
this book. For that reason I shall not attempt to 
say anything of the lady, as the reader can turn to 
the book and satisfy all curiosity there. But if I 
should find, at some future time, that I am mis- 
taken in my surmise, I shall make that my excuse 
for the pleasant task of writing again of Mrs. Roe. 
The old homestead is described in the ' Opening 
of a Chestnut Burr,' and naturally this would en- 
dear the book to those who lived there. 



152 HOME LIFE 

" The library in which Mr. Roe does his writing, 
when at home, is a sunny room filled from floor to 
ceiling with books. A large flat desk, covered 
with papers, stands in the centre of the room, and 
this is the novelist's work-bench. I shall conclude 
with a few words regarding Mr. Roe's method of 
working. Mr. Roe himself has supplied this in a 
letter written nearly a year ago, to an admirer, and 
part of which I am allowed to copy. This extract 
forms a portion of Mr. Roe's work never before 
published, and the writer himself had no idea it 
would ever appear in print. The letter bears date 
November 25, 1878. He says: — 

" ' My aim is to spend the earlier part of the 
day in my study, but I cannot always control my 
time, much of which is lost in interruptions. I 
sometimes have to go away and shut myself up for 
a time. I am not as systematic as I ought to be. 
I like to write the latter part of my books at white 
heat, first getting full of my story and then writing 
with a zest. I call from five to eight pages a good 
day's work, although in some moods I write many 
more. Again, I will work hard over three or four. 
I am opposed to night work. 

" i I hope to average five hours a day hereafter 
in my study, and three or four in my garden. I 
employ from ten to fifteen men and from ten to 
thirty boys in picking the berries. A large part 



HOME LIFE 153 

of my labor is employed in taking up and packing 
plants. The department of fruit culture to which 
I give my chief attention, is the keeping of each 
variety separate and pure. This I trust to no one, 
and it requires constant vigilance.' 

" After leaving the residence of Mr. Roe, we 
went half a mile or so farther on to Idlewild, once 
the home of N. P. Willis. Darkness came on be- 
fore we reached there and we had our labor for 
our pains. 

" Mrs. Roe said that Idlewild is little changed 
since the poet left it. A recent freshet swept away 
the bridges he built in the Glen, but otherwise it is 
the same as it was before. Thus ended our visit 
to Cornwall-on-the-Hudson." 



CHAPTER XI 

SANTA BARBARA 

MY brother's boyhood friend, Mr. Merwin, 
speaking of his visits at Cornwall later, 
says : " When honors came in troops, I found 
Edward was the same kindly unostentatious man, 
the truly loyal friend. Later, after some corre- 
spondence with me, he came to Southern Cal- 
ifornia, where under those sunny skies and semi- 
tropical scenes his love of Nature found great 
delight. 

" While visiting at Pasadena, as we drove about 
that beautiful city, he emphasized what he had 
often told me, that one of the great joys of his 
life was that which came to him from the hun- 
dreds of letters from all parts of the country, and 
many written by people in humble circumstances, 
thanking him most heartily for the cheer and 
encouragement he had given them through his 
books." 

After a short stay with his friend in Pasadena 
Edward went with his wife and children to Santa 
Barbara. There they occupied a pleasantly situ- 



SANTA BARBARA 155 

ated cottage, owned by a New England lady and 
her daughter, under whose excellent care they en- 
joyed the rest and freedom from restraint that 
cannot be found in crowded hotels. 

In a letter written to the Detroit Tribune 
my brother gives his experience of a California 
winter. 

" My impression is that January first was the 
warmest day of the month. Certainly on no other 
days was I so conscious of the sun's heat, yet the 
air was so deliciously cool and fresh in the early 
morning. There had been a heavy dew, and grass, 
weed, hedge, and flower were gemmed in the bril- 
liant sunshine. 

" Walking up town with my mail at about ten 
in the morning, I found myself perspiring as upon 
a hot day in August, but there was no sense of 
oppression. One was exhilarated rather than 
wilted. After reaching our cottage piazza and 
the shelter of the climbing roses and honeysuckle, 
the change was decidedly marked. This is said 
to be the peculiarity the year round, even in 
midsummer. One has only to step out of the 
sun's rays in order to be cool, and the dead, sultry 
heat which sometimes induces one to yearn for 
the depths of a cave is unknown. 

" As I sat there in the shade, letting the paper 
fall from my hand in the deeper interest excited 



156 SANTA BARBARA 

by my immediate surroundings, I could scarcely 
realize that we were in the depths of winter. 

" The air was fragrant from blooming flowers ; 
finches and Audubon's warblers were full of song 
in the pepper trees, while humming birds were 
almost as plentiful as bumble-bees in June. 

" It was evident that the day was being cele- 
brated in the manner characteristic of the place. 
One might fancy that half the population were 
on horseback. In twos and fours they clattered 
along the adjacent streets, while from more distant 
thoroughfares, until the sounds were like faint 
echoes, came also the sounds of horses' feet rap- 
idly striking the hard adobe of the roadways. In 
addition to those who gave the impression of life 
and movement in the suburbs of the town, large 
equestrian parties had started for mountain passes 
and distant canons, taking with them hearty lunches 
in which the strawberries were a leading feature. 
As long as the sun was well above the horizon 
delicate girls, almost in summer costume, could sit 
in the shade of the live-oaks in safety, but when 
the sun declines to a certain point, between four 
and five in winter, there is a sudden chill in the 
air, and those who do not protect themselves by 
wraps or overcoats are likely to be punished with 
as severe colds as they would take in a Boston east 
wind. 



SANTA BARBARA 157 

"It has often seemed to me warmer at eight 
o'clock in the evening than at four in the after- 
noon. 

" We resolved to have our holiday outing as well 
as the others, and after dinner were bowling out on 
the road to Montecito, the favorite suburb of Santa 
Barbara. The fields by the roadside were as bare 
and brown as ours in winter when not covered with 
snow, but drought, not frost, was the cause. The 
1 rainy season ' was well advanced, but there had 
been no rain in quantity sufficient to awaken nature 
from her sleep. In this climate vegetation is 
always a question of moisture. 

"When reaching the villa region of Montecito, 
blossoming gardens and green lawns illustrated 
this truth. After a visit to the beautiful grounds 
and fine residence of Mr. A. L. Anderson, so well 
remembered by thousands as the captain of the 
favorite Hudson River steamboat the Mary Powell, 
we drove on to one of the largest orange groves on 
this part of the coast. Mr. Johnson, one of the 
proprietors, received us most hospitably, and led 
the way into a grove that sloped toward the moun- 
tains. The ground was scrupulously free from 
weeds, mellow as an ash heap, and had evidently 
been made very fertile. Mr. Johnson told me that 
he fed the trees constantly and liberally, and this 
course is in accordance with nature and with rea- 



158 SANTA BARBARA 

son, for the orange tree never rests. While the 
fruit is ripening the tree is blossoming for a new 
crop. Always growing and producing, it requires 
a constant supply of plant food, and one of the 
causes of the deep green and vigorous aspect of 
the grove and its fruitfulness consisted undoubt- 
edly in the richness at the roots. 

"Another and leading cause was in abundant 
supply of water. 

" From a canon near by a mountain stream 
flowed down skirting the grove. This stream was 
tapped by an iron pipe at a point sufficiently high 
to furnish by gravity all the water required, and 
it was distributed by a simple yet ingenious 
contrivance. 

" The utmost vigilance is exercised against in- 
sect pests and the mutilation of the roots by 
gophers. The results of all this intelligent care 
and cultivation were seen in the surprising beauty 
and fruitfulness of the trees, which were laden with 
from one to two thousand golden-hued oranges, in 
addition to the green ones not to be distinguished 
from the leaves at a distance. Even so early in 
the season there were a sufficient number of blos- 
soms to fill the air with fragrance. 

" The brook babbled with a summer-like sound, 
and the illusion of summer was increased by the 
song of birds, the flutter of butterflies, and the 



SANTA BARBARA 1 59 

warm sunshine, rendering vivid the gold and glossy- 
green of the groves. Rising near and reflecting 
down the needed heat were the rocky and precip- 
itous slopes of the Santa Ynez Mountains. Turn- 
ing on one's heel, the silver sheen of the Pacific 
Ocean, gemmed with islands, stretched away as far 
as the eye could reach. Could this be January? 
On our way home I felt that it might be, for as the 
sun sank low wraps and overcoats, which could 
not have been endured an hour before, seemed 
scarcely adequate protection against the sudden 
chill. 

" Throughout the month there were many days 
like the first, summer — like sunshine followed by 
chilly evenings and cool nights. No rain fell and 
clouds were rarely seen. The temperature grad- 
ually became lower even at midday, and occasion- 
ally in the early morning there was a white frost 
on the boards and sidewalks. The roses grew 
more scattering in the bushes. Nature did not 
absolutely stop and rest, but she went slow over 
the cold divide of the year. I know not how it 
was with the old residents, but a sense of winter 
haunted me, especially on the quiet, star-lit nights. 
I sometimes questioned whether this sense resulted 
from the impressions of a lifetime, made at this 
season, or was due to climatic influences. To 
both, I fancy. When a baker's horse and wagon, 



l6o SANTA BARBARA 

furnished with bells, jingled by, it was a sleigh until 
memory asserted itself. 

" When abroad, even in the bright, warm sun- 
shine, something in the appearance of the sky, the 
feel of the atmosphere, and the aspect of the bare, 
brown fields suggested winter and created a mo- 
mentary astonishment at the flowers which con- 
tinued to bloom in the watered gardens. 

" I was continually aware of a conscious effort 
to account for what I saw and to readjust my ideas 
to a new order of things. 

" The season seemed an anomaly, for it was 
neither summer nor winter, fall nor spring, in ac- 
cordance with one's previous impressions. The 
visage of nature had an odd and peculiar aspect. 
It was as if the face of an old friend had assumed 
an expression never seen before. There was no 
ambiguity or uncertainty upon one point, however, 
and that was the need of winter clothing by day 
and of blankets at night, roses and sunshine not- 
withstanding, and those proposing to come here 
should always remember the chill of shade and 
apartments without fires. 

" Although the mercury never marks extreme 
cold, the sense of cold is often felt keenly unless 
adequate provision is made against it. All that is 
needed, however, is a little prudence, for one 
never has to guard against sudden and violent 
changes. 



SANTA BARBARA l6l 

" As in the East, so here, winter is especially 
dedicated to social pleasures. Much of the gayety 
centres at the two fine hotels, the Arlington and the 
San Marcos, both under the efficient management 
of one proprietor, Mr. Cowles. The townspeople 
are much indebted to his genial courtesy, and the 
spacious parlours are often lined with the parents 
and chaperons of young ladies from the city of 
Santa Barbara as well as with his guests, while the 
entertainments have the best characteristics of a 
dancing party at a private dwelling. It is very 
fortunate for the young people that there are such 
unexceptional places in which to meet, for this town 
is peculiarly a city of cottages, few being large 
enough for assemblies of any considerable numbers. 

" There is consequently much social life in a 
quiet, informal way. 

" One of the remarkable characteristics of the 
town is the large percentage of what is justly 
termed good society — a society not resting its 
claims on wealth or an ancestry long known and 
recognised in the vicinity, but on the much better 
qualities of refinement, intelligence, and cultiva- 
tion. Search for health and a genial climate have 
brought people here from all parts of the Union, 
and not a few, after long residence abroad, prefer 
this Pacific slope to any of the world-renowned 
regions on the Mediterranean. One therefore 



1 62 SANTA BARBARA 

soon discovers a marked absence of provincialism 
and is led to expect that the quiet lady or gentle- 
man to whom he is introduced has seen far more 
of the world than himself. The small, unpreten- 
tious cottage facing the grassy sidewalk may be 
inhabited by a mechanic, or it may be the dwell- 
ing-place of people cosmopolitan in their culture 
and experience. Strangers are not wholly de- 
pendent on each other for society, as is so often 
true of health resorts, but find a resident popula- 
tion both hospitable and acquainted with life in its 
most varied aspects. Much of the abundant leis- 
ure possessed by many is spent in reading, and to 
this pleasure a large, well-selected free library 
contributes greatly." 

Edward had the good fortune to arrive at Santa 
Barbara in time to witness its unique centen- 
nial celebration, of which he gives a detailed 
description. 

" Santa Barbara, Cal., January 7, 1887. 

" Few more interesting events ever took place 
in the quaint and quiet town of Santa Barbara 
than its centennial, and nothing resembling it in 
any true sense can ever occur again. The Indian 
element of this region receded and disappeared 
before the Spanish, and the latter population is 
fast becoming a minority among the still paler 



SANTA BARBARA 1 63 

faces arriving from the East. The time perhaps 
is not distant when Santa Barbara may be known 
as a New England city. Even in its centennial 
the great effort made to recall the past and the 
old resulted in a large degree from the interest 
taken by new comers in vanishing phases of life. 
The success of the enterprise was due largely to 
the organization, young in age and composed 
chiefly of youthful members, entitled the 'Go 
Ahead Club.' The name itself suggests the 
East, and the opposite of the Spanish disposition 
to permit each day to be a repetition of a former 
day, yet the club had the tact and friendly feel- 
ing to co-operate with the best Spanish element, 
and to bring about a festival week which inter- 
ested all classes of people. 

" For days even a stranger was impressed by a 
slight bustle of preparation. When riding up 
from the steamer we saw, in the dim starlight, 
that a great arch spanned Main Street. Obser- 
vation in the bright sunshine of the morrow 
proved this arch to be a wooden structure and a 
fine imitation of the front of the old mission with 
its quaint towers. Busy workmen were draping 
the edifice with some variety of aromatic ever- 
green and with palm leaves, and it still remains 
as a suggestion to new comers of what they 
missed in not arriving earlier. 



I 64 SANTA BARBARA 

"The opening ceremonies of the week naturally 
centered at the Mission Church, and on Sunday 
the religious phase of the festival culminated. 
Even before we were through breakfast groups 
were seen pressing from town. Later there were 
the sounds of rapid wheels and the echoing tramp 
of horses. We soon joined the increasing throng 
wending its way up the slopes which lift the Mis- 
sion above the town and place it against the grand 
mountain background. Spanish colors, red and 
yellow, hung from tower to tower, while Ameri- 
can flags floated from the belfry arches. Within 
the long, narrow interior of the church the sun- 
shine contended with innumerable candles flick- 
ering on the altar, at the shrines, and from the 
chandeliers. The softly blended light revealed 
the beautiful decorations drawn from the abundant 
flora and plant life of the region. 

" The elaborate service began, the fragrance of 
roses was lost in that of the incense, the rustle 
of dresses and tread of incoming feet in the mel- 
low tones of the chanting priest and the responses 
of the choir. Every seat and all standing room 
was occupied, rich and poor sharing alike accord- 
ing to the earliness of their arrival. Next to a 
dark-visaged Spanish laborer might be seen the 
delicate bloom of a New England girl's features. 
Beautiful lace mantillas were worn in several 



SANTA BARBARA 1 65 

instances. In looking at them one sighed as he 
thought of the various monstrosities termed bon- 
nets which disfigure modern women. The clergy 
were in their most gorgeous robes, strong con- 
trasts in tone and color on every side, but above 
all was a sense of the past touching the present 
in many and unexpected ways ; and this effect was 
enhanced by a sermon in English, giving an 
account of the founding of the Mission. Late 
one afternoon, on a subsequent day, I found the 
door of the church open and, venturing in, saw 
the western sun shining through the high narrow 
windows, lighting up shrines and images with the 
mellowest light and throwing others into the 
deepest shadow. 

"No one was visible, yet in the silence and 
desertion of the place one felt more like worship 
than when, a part of the throng, he witnessed the 
ceremonials of the preceding Sunday. 

" Later still, returning from aramble in Mission 
Canon, I peeped into the old church once more. 
Twilight had deepened into dusk — all was dark 
within, except the faintest glimmer of a taper at 
the altar, where it was evident that some of the 
Franciscans were engaged in their devotions. As 
I crept noiselessly away the bells chimed out from 
the belfry. In the upper gallery of the long 
corridor stretching from the right of the chapel 



1 66 SANTA BARBARA 

there was an immediate opening of doors and a 
shuffling of feet. 

"Evidently the bells had summoned to some 
new duty, — attendance in the refectory at that 
hour, I trust, — and I could have cordially joined 
the venerable fathers then, however simple their 
diet. 

" On Monday the festival passed into its secular 
aspect. The morning was deemed most unfavor- 
able in this climate, where a cloud, even in 
winter, is far more rare than roses. The sky was 
overcast with what the Spaniards call a * high 
fog.' The sun soon proved, however, to be the 
victor, for early in the day the leaden pall was 
shot through and through with light. Not only 
from the most distant and well-to-do ranches, 
but from all the small adobe houses and huts 
that skirt the mountains, the people were on the 
way to town in the early hours. They appeared 
on the streets in almost every description of 
vehicle imaginable, and not a few looked as if 
they had trudged from a long distance. The 
majority, both of men and women, had apparently 
ridden in on their broncho horses, the hardy and 
often vicious native breed of the region. The 
townspeople had prepared a brilliant welcome, 
for the whole length of State Street was decorated 
with flags and streamers of many and varied 



SANTA BARBARA 1 67 

devices, the Spanish and American colors blend- 
ing most amicably. There was bustle and move- 
ment, life and color, with an increasing concourse 
throughout the whole length of the thoroughfare. 
To a stranger's eye, men in various costumes 
were riding aimlessly and often furiously to and 
fro, but as noon approached affairs began to cul- 
minate in the blocks above the Arlington Hotel. 
Here the procession was forming, and it proved 
to be the chief event of the week. Nature was 
now assisting to make the occasion all that could 
be desired. The clouds that had threatened now 
merely saved the day from an unredeemed glare. 
After the usual delay in processions, it began 
to pass the balcony of the Arlington Hotel, where 
scores of guests were assembled to witness the 
pageant. First came the grand marshal in a gen- 
uine Mexican suit and mantle. Following him 
were his aids, dressed in rich, various, and char- 
acteristic Spanish costumes, some of which were 
remarkable for their beauty and others were pic- 
turesque in the extreme. One young gentleman 
was habited in blue, lavishly laced with silver. 
It was the cadet uniform of the Spanish army, and 
had belonged to his grandfather. Another, clad 
in cream white satin and gold lace, with crimson 
sash and other accessories, made a striking figure. 
" Indeed, each of the aides graced the occasion 



I 68 SANTA BARBARA 

in handsome costumes which were, as I was told, 
no capricious and fancy affairs, but a reproduc- 
tion of the gala habiliments of the past. They 
sat their fine horses in Mexican saddles which 
were in themselves marvels of old and curious 
workmanship. A like cavalcade in Broadway 
would draw out the town. 

" Next in order came the Spanish division, men 
and women on horseback, and nearly fifty strong. 
It was evident that all heirlooms in dress had 
been rummaged from their receptacles and made 
to fit the descendants of remote ancestors. It 
would be hard to say how many different ages and 
how many provinces in Spain and Mexico were 
represented. 

" To modern eyes the picturesque had the as- 
cendency over other qualities, but all welcomed 
the man carrying a guitar. At any rate, this 
division passed all too quickly, singing an ancient 
Spanish song. Close upon them were a band of 
soldiers clad in suits of antiquated buff jerkins, 
armed in old Mexican style with long pikes and 
muskets that may have been formidable once. It 
is doubtful whether a band so representative of 
the old Spanish element will ever appear on the 
streets of an American town again. Years hence 
such an attempt will be more of a masquerade 
than a reproduction. In this instance the genuine 



SANTA BARBARA 1 69 

Spaniards were too numerous and their traditions 
too recent and real to permit impositions. 

" Many Spaniards and native Californians not in 
costume now followed, and then came an old- 
fashioned ox-cart, dating back a century and drawn 
by oxen yoked by the horns. Within the cart 
was a wooden plow that had turned some of the 
earliest furrows in this region, and would have 
been equally satisfactory at the time of Abraham. 
In this age of invention one wonders that people 
remained satisfied so long with such primitive 
methods and implements. Appropriately follow- 
ing the cart, the like of which had been used by 
their ancestors, came the shrunken band of Mis- 
sion Indians, the two foremost of them carrying a 
portrait, draped in Spanish colors, of Padre Junu- 
pero Serra. 

"The good father passed away centuries ago, 
and the Indians he sought to civilize are also 
nearly extinct, but the principles which actuated 
him have redeemed his name from forgetfulness 
and will crown it with increasing honor. 

"The half-dozen Indians were chanting some 
wild song of their own when the fine band from 
San Luis Obispo struck up and the wail-like echo 
of the past was lost. Then came another signifi- 
cant and diminishing company, the Grand Army 
of the Republic. On every public occasion the 



170 SANTA BARBARA 

ranks are thinner and the hair of the veterans 
grayer. They, too, will soon leave but a name, 
but it will not be forgotten. 

"Driving away sad, if not gloomy thoughts, 
comes now a vision of beauty and youth; the joy 
of to-day and the rich promise of the future — an 
indefinite number of young girls who, in their 
two-wheeled village carts, or 'tubs,' as the Eng- 
lish term them, drew forth rapturous applause. 
Well they might, for they were in harmony with 
the loveliness of the June-like day. Their little 
carts had been transformed into floral bowers. 
The flowers and greenery so festooned the horses 
that they were half-hidden, while wheels within 
wheels of smilax, roses, geraniums, daisies, and 
other blossoms revolved in unison with the outer 
circumferences. Each little cart had its own dis- 
tinctive character, and some had been decorated 
with rare taste and originality. Not a few of 
the girls carried parasols constructed entirely of 
roses, or of geraniums, passion flowers, orange 
blossoms, etc. Greenhouses had not been 
stripped for them, nor, indeed, the open gardens 
from which they had been taken. Truly, no such 
visible and delightful proof could have been given 
to our Northern eyes that we had come to the land 
of flowers. Gardens, orange trees golden with 
fruit, formed the background for this charming 



SANTA BARBARA 171 

part of the procession, while beyond and above 
all rose the grand Santa Ynez Mountains, soften- 
ing their rugged outlines with half-veiling mists. 

"Burlesque followed close upon beauty in the 
form of an old farm cart laden with the coarser 
vegetables and driven by two young men in the 
garb of ancient females. The trades' procession 
came next, and spoke well for the business of the 
city, but our eyes soon dwelt lovingly on over a 
hundred school children, who made, by their 
unrestrained laughter, the sweetest music of the 
day, while two little girls riding on one much- 
bedecked donkey caused ripples of merriment as 
they passed. 

" A cavalcade of carriages and of ladies and gen- 
tlemen on horseback seemed about to close the 
procession, when there appeared one of the most 
interesting features yet seen — a train of pack 
mules, not merely illustrating the former method 
of transportation, but that employed to-day by the 
owner of the train. I hastened to the director, 
whose dress indicated a rude mountaineer, and 
expected a half intelligible reply from a Spaniard. 
The accent of his first word led me to scan his 
delicate Anglo-Saxon features. I eventually 
learned that he was a New Yorker, a member of 
one of its best-known families, and not a native 
of a little-known wilderness. 



172 SANTA BARBARA 

" Nevertheless he is a mountaineer. Dressed 
for a Fifth Avenue company one would not sus- 
pect it, his form is so slight and complexion so 
fair. Dudes would not be abashed at his pres- 
ence, yet they would expire under one day of his 
experiences. 

" Only by a mule train, led over a scarcely prac- 
ticable trail, can he reach his distant ranch, that 
is forty-five miles back in the heart of the moun- 
tains. Here, with another young man, a kindred 
spirit, he cares for an increasing herd of cattle, 
and if necessary is ready to protect it from wild 
animals. The grazing grounds are far within a 
region about as wild as it ever has been. How 
about the young men who whine when they can 
find nothing to do? 

"The interest of the two closing days of the 
festival centered at the race course and at the 
pavilion. The chief attractions at the former 
place were to be seen on Tuesday, and they were 
of a mixed character. We were treated to what 
would seem to be a rather rare phenomenon in 
Santa Barbara — a genuine Indian summer day of 
the warmest type, as we know it at the East. 
A haze partly obscured the Santa Ynez Moun- 
tains, softened the outlines of the foothills and 
blended the ocean with the sky. The air was 
soft and balmy in the extreme, but one soon 



SANTA BARBARA 1 73 

detected a slight chill in the shade. All sorts of 
vehicles, from stages of unwieldy height, open 
barouches, farmers' wagons of all descriptions, top 
buggies, down to the numerous little two-wheeled 
carts, rapidly converged toward the judges' stand. 
As on all gala occasions here, however, the num- 
ber on horseback was very large, the ladies sit- 
ting their horses with perfect ease and grace. 
Not a few, like myself, were content to trudge to 
the rendezvous on foot. The grand stand was 
soon crowded, and the vast, restless concourse 
stretched far to the right and left on either side 
of the race track. The horsemanship of the 
Spaniards could only be surpassed by the fine 
action of their steeds, and all lovers of this 
noblest of animals must have been delighted. In 
the effort to show how wild cattle were lassoed, 
thrown, and branded there appeared to be too 
much needless cruelty, and when a miserable little 
bull was tormented into savageness, and the sem- 
blance of a bull-fight took place, scores of people 
turned away in disgust. 

"The finest equestrianism could not redeem the 
scene from brutality. The victims were the 
wretched bull, a fine innocent horse badly gored, 
and the people who could not endure to see 
animals suffer needlessly. So also in the after- 
noon great skill was undoubtedly manifested in 



174 SANTA BARBARA 

lassoing the feet of the wild broncho horses, and 
in the process of subduing them, yet one pitied 
the poor creatures too greatly for enjoyment and 
soon turned away. The helpless beasts were 
checked in full career, often thrown upon their 
heads, turning a complete somersault. One 
animal, I was told, broke its neck in the opera- 
tion, and so escaped further suffering. Such 
scenes, no doubt, illustrated much that was com- 
mon in the life of the early settlers, but happily 
it is a past phase, and will scarcely be reproduced 
again in this region. 

" It was interesting to observe the many types 
of people in festival costume, the Indian in his 
blanket, the Spaniard wearing the broad som- 
brero, and the belle from New York reflecting 
the latest mode. There was movement, light, 
color, vivacity, and excitement. 

" Every moment or two the eye caught glimpses 
of swift, spirited horses and their graceful riders, 
and yet one's glance was often lured from it all 
to the grand, mist-veiled mountains beyond. 
Many of the scenes and objects at the pavilion 
were very interesting to our foreign eyes and 
ears. Here Spanish and American life met and 
mingled in a far more agreeable way. Several 
ladies had taken charge of the large building, 
erected for horticultural purposes, and by the aid 



SANTA BARBARA 1 75 

of greenery, flowers, flags, and a blending of Span- 
ish and American colors, had transformed the 
spacious interior into a decorated hall well fitted 
for a festival. In the centre of the hall rose a 
flower stand suggesting Moorish architecture, its 
arches making fitting frames for the young girls 
within. One might buy flowers, but his eye 
lingered rather on the fair flower-girls in their 
charming costumes. Among the booths was one 
in which some Spanish ladies had kindly per- 
mitted to be exhibited some of their ancient treas- 
ures — velvet mantles, embroidered shawls, etc. 
Even to masculine eyes they were marvellously 
beautiful, rich, and intricate in their designs. 
The ladies stood before them with clasped hands 
and expressed themselves in exclamation points. 
The chief attraction, however, was the stage, on 
which were tableaux and, above all, the genuine 
Spanish fandango. One of the dances was a 
waltz, with an intricate figure which you felt 
might go on forever, and that you could look on 
a good part of the time. At first it struck one 
as merely simple, graceful, and very slow, and 
guided by monotonous music; but while you 
looked and listened a fascination grew upon you 
hard to account for. The oft-repeated strain 
began to repeat itself in your mind; you felt 
rather than saw how it controlled the leisurely 



176 SANTA BARBARA 

gliding figures — for there is no hopping in the 
Spanish dances — until at last, in fancy, you were 
moving with them in perfect time and step. In 
brief, the dance had the effect of a strain of music 
which, when first heard, is not at all striking, yet 
is soon running in your head as if it had a spell 
not easily broken. On the programme the dance 
was entitled ' Contra Danza. ' Later a Spaniard 
who has a wide local reputation, I believe, ap- 
peared in what was termed ' Son-jarabe. ' He 
certainly left nothing to be desired in his per- 
formance after his fashion, but the grace of the 
lady who accompanied was inimitable. From my 
somewhat distant point of view she appeared to 
be dressed in a simple black gown and wore no 
ornaments. She needed none. No bespangled 
dancer I ever saw so enchained my eyes. One 
would almost think that an orange, placed upon 
her head, would not fall off, and yet a more utter 
absence of stiffness in movement was never wit- 
nessed. She seemed ever approaching, yet ever 
receding from, her companion; a moment near, 
then far away, gliding to one side or the other, 
as if impossible to be reached in her coquetry of 
elusive grace. Each separate movement was 
called out in Spanish, and in a varied, half- 
musical accent not easily described. 

" At the closing centennial ball like dances were 



SANTA BARBARA 1 77 

repeated, the participants wearing Spanish cos- 
tumes. Here we had a nearer and more distinct 
view of the fandango. We again saw the ' Con- 
tra Danza, ' and another, even more intricate, 
that was as odd as it was full of grace and unex- 
pected action. If ' La Jota ' is an old dance, it 
should certainly take the place of many that have 
little to redeem them from commonplace, if not 
worse. 

" Son-jarabe was again repeated to the pleasure 
of all, and especially of the Spaniards, who, in 
conformance with an old custom, expressed their 
satisfaction by raining silver down upon the floor 
from the gallery. There was the same weird 
intoning by the master of ceremonies, calling off 
the different measures ; the same constantly recur- 
ring strains of music that haunted one long after- 
ward, and the same slow yet singularly graceful 
movement of the dancers. All were in Spanish 
costume, although many American young men and 
maidens were also participants, yet had been 
taught so well by their Spanish friends that they 
were scarcely to be distinguished from them. 
The Spanish dances that I saw did not strike me 
as at all voluptuous, and no one appeared who was 
not dressed in accordance with the strictest ideas 
of decorum. The whole pageant passed away 
with the ball, and nothing remains to remind us 

12 



178 SANTA BARBARA 

of the centennial but the green arch spanning 
State Street. The old Mission stands out gray 
and silent, except that its bells occasionally chime 
out for reasons unknown to me." 

Writing again, in April, my brother describes 
the change wrought by the first heavy rainfall of 
the season. 

" One of the drawbacks to Santa Barbara is the 
dust, and it is a disagreeable accompaniment of a 
dry climate which must be accepted. Towards 
the end of January there were occasionally high, 
gusty winds which reminded one of March experi- 
ences at home. At times the dust rose in clouds 
and obscured the city, and to my taste the wildest 
snowstorm would be preferable to these chilling, 
stifling tempests. They were not frequent or 
long continued, however, and the old inhabitants 
said they presaged rain, the great bounty for 
which the whole State was longing. 

"A rainless winter is a terrible misfortune, and 
when February finds the ground hard and dry 
there is deep and natural anxiety. 

" In one dry season, years ago, forty thousand 
head of cattle perished. With present means of 
communication this probably would not happen 
again, but a check would be given to budding 



SANTA BARBARA 1 79 

prosperity which would take several fruitful years 
to overcome. There were scores of people hesi- 
tating whether to buy or build who would decide 
favorably if the usual rainfall occurred. When, 
therefore, on the 5th the first storm of the season 
set in, rejoicing and congratulations were general. 
Seldom before have I so realized what a heaven- 
ly bounty rain is. The whole population were 
hoping, waiting, longing, and one would be callous 
indeed not to sympathize. For that matter, the 
interests of temporary visitors were also deeply 
involved, as may be illustrated by the pleasure I 
had in watching from my study window the bare, 
brown foothills become greener daily. With 
intervals, designed, it would seem, to give the 
parched earth time to take in the precious mois- 
ture, the rains continued for about ten days. At 
last there was a steady down-pour for nearly 
twenty-four hours, and then dawned a morning 
that for brightness, clearness, and beauty left 
nothing to be imagined. The birds were fairly 
ecstatic in their rejoicings and nature seemed to 
be tripping forth like a young girl to her work. 
It may be that she will have to perfect most of the 
products of the earth without another drop of rain, 
and she will prove equal to the task. 

" A fruitful year in this section does not depend 
on seasonable storms and showers, as with us, but 



180 SANTA BARBARA 

upon the number of inches of the winter rainfall, 
the soil retaining sufficient moisture to carry the 
crops through in safety. Many tourists came 
in the height of the storm and some had a hard 
time of it. The hotels were crowded, and not a 
few, miserably seasick, were driven from house to 
house in pouring rain searching for rooms. Ex- 
cept on State Street the highways of the city are 
little more than country roads, the bottom of 
which, as in Virginia, seems to have fallen out. 
One stage load was spilled into the mud and no 
doubt carried away sinister memories of "sunny 
Santa Barbara." The weather, which was the 
salvation of the country, was well anathematized 
by transient visitors, and one lady was overheard 
to remark that she had seen the first of the place 
and hoped that she had seen the last. Thus judg- 
ments and opinions are formed. Those who re- 
mained and saw the exquisite phases of spring 
rapidly developing under the vivid sunshine would 
be in no hurry to see the last of Santa Barbara, 
and a more perfect summer morning has rarely 
been seen than dawned on the last day of the 
month." 



CHAPTER XIII 

RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

I SPENT the summer of 1887 with Edward 
and his family at Santa Barbara; and he left 
me there in September on his return to his home 
at Cornwall. He expected to come back during 
the winter of 1889; and just a week before his 
sudden death, while I was at the Western Chau- 
tauqua, near Monterey, I had my last letter from 
him, telling of his plans for a California story 
which he hoped to write when once more at Santa 
Barbara. 

That evening, Major-General O. O. Howard 
gave a lecture upon the Battle of Gettysburg, and 
at its close I had some conversation with him, in 
the course of which I spoke of the letter just 
received. He had been well acquainted with my 
brother at West Point. I remember his saying 
at this time : " I gave a copy of ' A Knight of 
the Nineteenth Century ' to a young man about 
whose course of life I felt great anxiety, and that 
book, he wrote me, was the means of his entire 
reformation." 



1 82 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

This is but one of many similar instances that 
came before me personally during my sojourn in 
the West. 

At the time of Edward's departure from Santa 
Barbara he had engaged to write a story for 
Harper's Magazine which should be a sequel to 
"Nature's Serial," and which was to be fully 
illustrated by Mr. William Hamilton Gibson. It 
was therefore necessary for him to be near the 
scenes of his proposed story and in easy commu- 
nication with Mr. Gibson. 

It may not be out of place to print here the 
following letters. Many of them are separated 
by long intervals of time and have no direct con- 
nection with each other, but they are expressive 
of the warm friendship that existed between my 
brother and the talented artist. 

" Santa Barbara, July 17, 1887. 

" My dear Mr. Gibson, — The longer I re- 
main here and the more I see of this region the 
oftener I think of you : and the more earnestly I 
am bent on your coming here with your sketch- 
book. 

"The scenery is just in your line, yet different 
from any thing you have yet done. Phew ! what 
a book we could make together out here. During 
the past week Mrs. Roe and I went over the 



RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 1 83 

Santa Ynez Mountains, and I wished for you at 
every turn of the San Marcus Pass. Then there 
are scores of these, with beautiful canons. But I 
will tell you about them in September, when I 
hope to see you. 

" I expect to give much of September and all of 
October to the study of the Highlands, and only 
wish you can so arrange as to be with me as much 
as possible. 

"I 've been toiling over the Earthquake story, 
and while you and the critics will say it is no 
great * shakes, ' I shall have to remember how 
the mountain labored. I have at least a month's 
more work upon it, and am giving up the whole 
of my time to it, now that I am in the mood for 
writing. 

"How are you enjoying the summer, and are 
you very busy? 

" Lucky you did not get into that fight with the 
Park Commissioners during your July heats. If 
you had there would have been some ' ha'r lifted,' 
as they say out on the plains. You would make a 
better subject for a scalping-knife than I. Have 
you seen much of Mr. Alden ? He sent me two 
fine photographs of himself recently. 

"I trust that Mrs. Gibson and the boy are 
keeping well through the intense heat of which 
we read in the papers. This climate surpasses 



1 84 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

anything I ever imagined. We have had but 
one hot day thus far. July has been delightfully 
cool, about the same as last December, with the 
exception that the evenings and nights are a little 
warmer. The sea-bathing is superb. Mrs. Roe 
and all five children are enjoying it this afternoon. 
" Yours sincerely, E. P. Roe. " 

" Washington, Conn., September, 1887. 

" Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Welcome home, one and 
all S Such is the burden of my emotions as I 
read in to-day's paper that Mr. Roe, the Roe- 
manser, has returned to civilization from the 
Santa Barbarans, and is once more at ' Shanty 
Clear. ' 

" Seriously, I am immensely delighted that you 
are once more with us, and shall look forward to 
an early meeting. And now apropos — we, my 
wife and I, have enjoyed many a memorable season 
of pleasure at your country home. Can we not 
persuade you and Mrs. Roe to give us a visit at 
ours ? for here is my favorite camping ground and 
my home acre. As soon as you feel sufficiently 
rested from your trip, and providing you are so 
disposed, will you make us happy by spending a 
few days with us? — that is if you still remember 
your neglectful correspondent and care to hob- 
nob with him as of yore. 



RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 1 85 

"That proposed Highland trip is immensely 
tempting, and I shall hope to arrange to take a few 
days outing with you, but alas ! it cannot be until 
early November or the very last of October. I 
am so full of obligations until then. 

"Don't call this a letter. It is written in the 
face of a yawning mail-bag and must be judged 
accordingly. 

" Your sincere friend, 

"Gibson." 

Mr. Gibson's own work was so pressing that 
autumn that he was unable to spare the time for 
the Highland trip mentioned in his letter, when 
many of the sketches were to be made for the 
projected story. The remaining letters are from 
my brother to Mr. Gibson. 

"December 15, 1880. 

" Some one rang at my door to-day — he must 
be nigh of kin to Santa Claus — and left your 
superb volume. It almost took away my breath. 

"I gave you i Small Fruits ' only. But the 
fruits of your pencil and pen are the reverse of 
small. 

" Do you realize what a benefactor you are in 
sending me, on this dull cloudy day, exquisites of 
the finest seasons of the year? Spring is months 
away, but I have had the sweetest glimpse of 



1 86 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

spring beside my winter fire. The blazing wood 
supplied the warmth, — and your fancy did the 
rest in reproducing June. 

" I am deeply in your debt. Draw on me for 
unlimited quantities of strawberries." 

4 

"April 16, 1882. 
"I was determined to find you a four-leaf 
clover, and yesterday I succeeded. 

"It will bring you no end of good luck." 

"January 31, 1884. 

"Don't worry when you are not in writing con- 
dition. If needful you can drop a postal now and 
then. The best way is to come up Saturday night 
and have a talk. You need a little change and 
mountain air. 

" I am writing by this mail for Mr. and Mrs. 
Dielman to come at the same time. Why would 
it not be a good plan to get together and talk over 
the completion of the story and take a sleigh 
ride ? 

" You have no idea how a little change freshens 
one up, and if you can spend Sunday and Monday 
we will all have a country frolic. I need one 
myself. I have been over-working and was very 
ill from nervous trouble for a few days. I went 
right to Nature, tramped and rode in the open air. 



RETURN TO CORNWALL -— LETTERS 1 87 

So come Saturday by all means, for we all want to 
see you. 

" Beautiful red-pine grosbeaks are feeding about 
the piazza like chickens. With your powers you 
could go and pick them up. " 

"December 13, 1884. 

" I should have written to you or seen you be- 
fore, but I have been working hard to get the St. 
Nicholas serial well advanced. 

" My heart is in the continuation of ' Nature's 
Serial.' Take the press generally, that book is 
being received remarkably well. I tell you 
frankly my aim now is to prepare one of the most 
beautiful books that has ever been published in 
this country. From what Dielman has said I 
have no doubt but that he'll go in with me. I 
also mentioned Mr. Frost to Alden and I shall 
also go see Mrs. Foote. It is possible she may 
be willing to take a part of the illustrations. 

" But I shall be heartbroken if you cannot take 
the part of Hamlet in the performance. If you 
will, you can make old Cro'nest and Storm King 
your monuments, and few will pass up or down 
the river without mentioning your name. 

" I shall begin to make my studies in January. 
In the meantime it will be a summer story, 
although I expect to close it at Christmas, and it 



1 88 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

will be full of just such material as suits your 
pencil. 

" I would like at least four illustrations for each 
number, as many full-paged as possible. 

" Mrs. Roe joins me in regards to Mrs. Gibson." 

"December 29, 1884. 

"What can I say to you? How make you 
appreciate how greatly we appreciate and value your 
beautiful remembrance? We all went into ecsta- 
sies over the picture, which arrived in perfect 
safety. It should have gone into the book if I 
had seen it before, and had had any influence. 
As it is, it rounds out ' Nature's Serial ' to my 
mind, and leaves it a past experience without 
alloy, except as I remember the imperfection of 
my own work. Can you wonder at my desire to 
be at work with you again some day ? 

" But we will leave that for the present, as you 
say, I living in hopes that the way will open for 
you to explore the Highlands with me, and to 
reveal their beauties to the public far better than 
I can. You see Nature as I do, only you inter- 
pret it to me, and make it more beautiful than the 
reality appears. 

" I will have the picture framed as you suggest, 
and when you soon come to Cornwall again it will 
greet you from an honored place in our parlor. 



RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 1 89 

" Mrs. Roe and the girls, with our guests, were 
as greatly pleased as myself. 

" Mr. and Mrs. Drake also sent us a beautiful 
bit of art. I am just delighted with the way Mr. 
Drake is taking hold of my 5/. Nicholas serial. 
I send the magazine for the year to W. H. 
Gibson, Jr. 

"You did indeed win a victory over the * incre- 
mentitious ' critic. I should think he would 
wish to crawl into a small hole, and ' pull the hole 
in after him.' Indeed you are triumphing over 
all your critics, and winning your rightful place. 
I knew this would be true years ago, because of 
your own truth to Nature. 

" Such an experience may never come to me, 
probably because I do not deserve it, but I am 
content to make some warm friends, like the 
writer of the enclosed letter. If what some of 
my critics say is true, a good many people who 
write and speak to me are awful and unnecessary 
liars. 

" I enjoyed your triumph as greatly as if it were 
my own. It was the neatest thrust under the fifth 
rib I ever saw, and I fear I shall never have 
enough Christian meekness not to enjoy seeing a 
fellow receive his conge when so well deserved. 
Dr. Abbott and I took part in the ' wake ' up here. 

"That the coming year may be the most pros- 



190 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

perous and happy that you and yours have ever 
known is the wish of your sincere friend." 

"February 17, 1885. 

" I have made arrangements with the best guide 
of the Highlands, one who knows every lake, 
pond, road, peak, man, woman, child, and dog in 
the mountains. 

"We start out on our first explorations the 
latter part of May, when Nature is in her loveliest 
mood. Say you '11 go. — I think the whole serial 
can be finished by October. You and Mrs. Gib- 
son can get excellent board at Cornwall. Thus 
you will identify yourself with the Hudson as you 
have with New England. I expect by then to 
have finished my St. Nicholas story and then 
will have the decks cleared for action. Our 
regards to Mrs. Gibson and the baby." 

" March 18, 1885. 

"I went down to attend Mr. Cyrus Field's 
reception. The trains were so delayed that I was 
nearly all day getting to the city. 

" Well, I met Mr. Stoddard, and spent a pleas- 
ant hour with him at the Century Club on the 
evening of March 7th. He asked to be intro- 
duced to me, and I remarked ' that I was sur- 
prised that he would take such a literary sinner 



RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 191 

by the hand. ' He replied, ' We are a pair of 
them. ' We chatted pleasantly a few moments in 
the supper-room, and then he concluded, ' Well, 
you are a good fellow to forgive me.' 

" Some time after he asked me to go upstairs 
with him, and we had a smoke together. I intro- 
duced him to Colonel Michee of West Point, who 
is about to publish a book. 

" Stoddard gave me his autograph unsolicited, 
written with his left hand and then backwards. 
I told him that I was glad he appreciated you. 
We had a long, merry talk, and in his conversa- 
tion he said he would be very glad to have a copy 
of ' Nature's Serial ' with your, Dielman's, and my 
autographs. This request was wholly unsug- 
gested, and he truly appeared to wish the book. 
Therefore, when you are at Harper's will you 
write your name on the fly-leaf, and then ask 
them to express the book to me? I will get Diel- 
man's autograph. Altogether it was a spicy in- 
terview. I received that eulogy of your work in 
the Boston paper, and had said the same in sub- 
stance to two or three of Harper's firm before." 

" September 16, 1887. 

" Your hat in the air was almost as inspiring 
as the sight of old Storm King. 

" It was very pleasant to be welcomed, and the 



192 RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 

day after my arrival I had to shake hands with 
nearly every man, woman and child, white and 
black, that I met. 

" Mrs. Roe took cold before we started on the 
long trip, and has been very ill ; is so yet, though 
she is gaining now steadily. I do not know 
when I can see you. 

"I long for the quiet of home life. It will 
require a sheriff and his posse to get me out of 
the house again. Put down your promise to visit 
me and tramp the Highlands in big capitals. 
If you should be in town and have a spare night 
come up here for a smoke and talk." 

" January i, 1888. 

"Thanks for your letter. It was almost as 
long as mine. 

" I spent most of ' watch-night ' on old Storm 
King with my children and Mr. Denton. We 
expected some other friends, who were detained 
by the storm. Coasting in a snowstorm proved 
very agreeable after all, especially as the road 
was lined with torches. The sleighs went like 
express-trains, and I was glad to get all safe 
home to the oyster supper which Mrs. Roe had 
ready for us as the old year took its departure. 

" I have amused myself in watching old Storm 
King, that in the wild rain has been taking on 



RETURN TO CORNWALL — LETTERS 1 93 

many aspects. We have had a sort of family 
holiday with the few friends coming and going, 
and I have enjoyed all, seeing the children have 
a good time. 

" I have had so much work on hand that I had 
to keep busy the greater part of each day. 

" I suppose your little boy has enjoyed the 
season immensely. Does he still believe in 
Santa Claus, or have you and Mrs. Gibson, in 
the interest of truth (see discussion in papers), 
felt bound to explain that you filled his stocking 
with articles bought at a certain store? My little 
girl is still considering how in the mischief the 
old fellow got down the chimney. 

"The sleighing is all gone. When it comes 
again we want you and Mrs. Gibson to take some 
mountain rides with us. 

" Happy New Year to you all. " 

But other literary friends besides Mr. Hamil- 
ton Gibson were welcome guests at Edward's 
Cornwall home; among them were Mr. and Mrs. 
R. H. Stoddard, Mr. John Burroughs, Mr. Sted- 
man, Mr. Alden, of Harper's Magazine, and Mr. 
Julian Hawthorne. 



CHAPTER XIII 

LAST BOOK— DEATH 

DURING the winter of 1887-88 Edward wrote 
his last book, " Miss Lou," a tale of South- 
ern life during the Civil War. In the spring he 
went down to Virginia to visit some scenes he 
wished to describe, and while there had a slight 
attack of neuralgia of the heart. The physician 
he called in ordered him to return home at once, 
and rest for a time. 

In June he seemed to have completely re- 
covered his health, and sent his usual invitation 
to the Philolethean Club of New York clergy- 
men, who then made their eighteenth and last 
visit. 

On the 19th of July, however, my brother com- 
plained during the day of not feeling very well, 
although he walked about the grounds inspecting 
his plants as was his custom. After dinner, in 
the evening, he sat in his library reading aloud 
from one of Nathaniel Hawthorne's works to his 
daughter and one of her young friends. Sud- 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 195 

denly he paused, placed his hand over his heart, 
and said, " There comes that sharp pain again. I 
shall have to go upstairs to my wife for some 
remedy." But he left the room with a smile. 
After he had taken the remedy, which did not 
give relief, his wife sent in haste for a physician, 
who as soon as he arrived saw there was no hope 
of my brother's recovery. After about forty min- 
utes of extreme agony, Edward seemed to feel 
relieved, rose to his feet, and attempted to cross 
the room, but turned quickly toward his wife 
with a look of surprise and joy, exclaiming, " O 
my God ! " — 'then fell lifeless to the floor. 

At the age of fifty, in the full vigor of man- 
hood, his earthly career came to an end. His 
funeral was held in the little church at Cornwall, 
where he had first consecrated his life to the ser- 
vice of Christ, and where he and his family had 
worshipped for so many years. 

Then he was laid to rest in the quiet graveyard 
on a beautiful knoll overlooking the Hudson, 
beside his parents and his own baby boy. 

Only a little earlier in that month, and just 
three weeks before his death, Edward invited the 
Authors' Club, of which he was a member, to 
spend a day at his Highland home. 

These lines were written in acceptance by Mr. 
E. C. Stedman : — 



196 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

" Know'st thou the bank where ' Triumph de Gands'are red 
(My books might be were I on berries fed) ; 
Where Cro'nest lowers and Hudson laughs below it, 
And welcome waits each editor or poet ? 
Know'st thou in fact the realm of E. P. Roe ? 
Hither, O hither, will I go." 

I insert here several accounts of this last meet- 
ing, written after my brother's death by members 
of the Club who were present. 

" I had the pleasure of meeting E. P. Roe twice. 
The first time was in May, 1888, at the Authors' 
Club in New York. It was a balmy spring 
evening. I had strolled into the club-rooms feel- 
ing rather lonesome among so many strangers, for 
I was then a new member of the Club, and, stop- 
ping at the table to admire a great basketful of 
apple-blossoms, I fell into conversation with a 
tall, fine-looking, genial-faced gentleman, who 
told me that he had just brought the flowers down 
from his farm on the Hudson for 'the boys.' I 
was mentally guessing who this gentleman with 
the noble brow and the black flowing beard could 
be, when some one approached and called him 
' Roe. ' We were soon left alone again, and I 
hastened to say : * Have I the honor of speaking 
to E. P. Roe ? ' Placing a hand on my shoulder, 
and bending near me with a kindly smile, he 
answered : ' I am E. P. Roe ; and may I ask your 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 197 

name?' Finding that I was from the South, he 
seemed to be especially glad of my acquaintance, 
and we were soon off in a corner, seated face to 
face, he asking questions fast, and with the great- 
est interest, and I answering to the best of my 
ability, concerning the war history and the moun- 
tain scenery of my native State. He was partic- 
ularly anxious to get at the exact social relation 
between the whites and blacks at the close of the 
war — especially the feeling of the blacks toward 
the whites — - with a view of making correct state- 
ments in a novel that he thought of writing. 
Each member of the Club soon wore an apple- 
blossom boutonnifre, and the rooms were full of 
the delicate perfume of these delicious flowers. 
That night, on leaving the Club, I took home 
with me a spray of the blossoms, and put it in 
water, and on the following day it shed its fra- 
grance for the pleasure of one who was then an 
invalid. In her name I wrote Mr. Roe a note of 
thanks for the flowers, and I received from him 
a characteristic reply. He wrote : — 

"'. . . I was delighted that my hastily gathered 
apple-blossoms gave such pleasure to your wife. 
How little it costs to bestow a bit of bright- 
ness here and there, if we only think about 
doing it! ' 

" The Authors' Club was invited by Mr. and Mrs. 



I98 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

Roe to spend Saturday, the 16th of June, at their 
home near Cornwall-on-Hudson, where we were 
cordially promised a feast of strawberries and 
pleasant outdoor pastimes. The day was a per- 
fect, a happy, and a memorable one to all who 
accepted the hospitality of the novelist. He met 
us at the river landing with a hearty hand-shake 
and a word of welcome for each guest, and person- 
ally conducted us to carriages which had been 
provided to convey us to his farmhouse, which we 
soon found to be an ideal home of unpretentious 
elegance. At luncheon our host addressed us, 
begging us to lay aside all formality, and get all 
the pleasure possible from his fruits and flowers, 
green grass and cooling shade. The strawberries 
in his patch were enormous, and each visitor to 
the vines in turn found Roe at his side, parting 
the leaves for him, and showing him where to 
pick the finest specimens. He was ubiquitous 
that day. If one strolled off among the myriad 
roses, and stopped to pluck a bud, he found the 
shapely hand of the farmer-author pulling for 
him a more beautiful one. If you flung yourself 
on the grass to dream awhile, Roe was lying 
down by you, telling you how happy this union 
of friends made him feel. 

" The day wore on to sunset, when a dance, to 
the music of banjos, was improvised on the lawn, 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 1 99 

the banjos being played by some handsome 
youths in lawn-tennis attire, who, with their 
gayly beribboned instruments, made a pretty 
scene. Roe clapped his hands with delight as he 
moved from group to group. I heard him say, 
* How often will I recall this scene ! I can bring 
you all back here just as you are now, whenever 
I want to.' His wife and daughters were unceas- 
ing in gracious attentions to their guests. 

" When the time for parting arrived, and the car- 
riages were drawn up, Mr. Roe hurried from one 
to another of us, begging each and all not to go, 
assuring us of ample accommodation if we would 
stay over night. A few remained, and those 
who left did so reluctantly, some of them, I am 
sure, quite sorrowfully. I remember wondering at 
myself for being overcome by such a feeling of 
sadness as I waved the family a last farewell from 
the departing carriage. I had said good-by to 
the famous writer as we came down the broad 
steps of his vine-covered veranda, he with his arm 
about my waist. 

" Never lived a more lovable and kindlier man 
than E. P. Roe ; and when, soon after that golden 
day, I read one morning of his sudden death, my 
heart welled up with tears over the bereavement 
of that stricken household in the shadow of old 
Storm King; yet I felt that their grief must be 



200 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

illumined by the pure light that hallowed the 
name 'of him who uttered nothing base.' " 

"Elrod Burke." 

" I fancy there are few of those active, tireless 
Americans, who, nevertheless, steal time from 
their business to read many newspapers and many 
books, who have heard of an association of men 
in New York called the Authors' Club. Authors, 
in their eyes, are apt to seem like inhabitants of a 
world apart, a world separated by a broad boun- 
dary from the sphere of average commercial labor. 
Authors are, as it w r ere, abstractions ; they are 
heard and not seen. They are heard through 
their books, which are the concrete essence of 
themselves; yet the author is, after all, an ex- 
tremely concrete personage, who strives as hard 
as anyone for his living, and whose reward is 
seldom commensurate with his efforts. It is the 
exceptional great man of literature — the great 
author being a better illustration than the small 
one — who is lucky enough to enjoy felicity during 
his lifetime. 

" But I did not start out here to make the old 
argument — which has been so often a fanciful 
and sentimental argument — against literature as 
a remunerative profession. My idea was a simple 
one : To assume that authors are more generally 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 201 

hidden from public view than almost any other 
class of men, and that, for this reason especially, 
the least important bit of gossip touching the 
private doings, goings, and sayings of authors 
interests, without question, a very large number 
of people. The writer of a famous novel or poem 
may walk the length of Broadway, yet remain 
absolutely a stranger to the crowd among whom 
he walks. A nobody of a politician passing 
over the same space would, I am sure, be liberally 
recognized as a somebody, and not the least sort 
of a somebody by any means. The stranger to 
the crowd, however, the author derives practical 
benefit from the * charm of mystery.' To be at 
once celebrated and unknown is for him a desir- 
able condition. His books are read. He piques 
curiosity. What more could he ask for? 

"The Authors' Club, being merely an associa- 
tion of authors, is therefore somewhat outside of 
public view. Its peculiar distinction is that it 
brings together various men whom the world 
honors, and a few more whom the world may or 
may not learn to honor. It is a very modest 
little Club, possibly with a very large future 
before it. If I should praise it for one thing heart- 
ily, that would be the good fellowship which 
animates it and which has permitted it to thrive. 
Among the older members of the club — the mem- 



202 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

bers who actually possess reputation — are Stod- 
dard, Stedman, Curtis, Edward Eggleston, John 
Hay, M. U. Conway, Mark Twain, George H. 
Boker, Henry Drisler, E. P. Roe, Andrew Car- 
negie, Henry James, E. L. Godkin, Parke God- 
win, S. Weir Mitchell, Noah Brooks, and (in an 
honorary sense) J. R. Lowell, Holmes, Whittier, 
R. L. Stevenson, and Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
The younger members count such names as Gilder, 
Lathrop, Bunner, Boyesen, Bishop, Luska, Will 
Carleton, Rutton, Matthews, McMaster, Miller, 
Bronson Howard, Mabie, DeKay, Boyle O'Reilly, 
Thorndike Rice, and others hardly less well 
known. Of all the men whom I just mentioned 
none has a wider reading public than Edward P. 
Roe, some of whose books have passed through 
twenty or more editions. 

" Mr. Roe is one of those authors ' who make 
money,' whose writing is not thrown on the 
barren soil of neglect. His income from books 
is much ampler, I believe, than the income of any 
other man of letters, obtained from the same 
source, in America. Because he is so popular he 
does not necessarily possess the elements of great- 
ness. True greatness seldom 'makes money.' 
Even brilliant originality in literature has a com- 
paratively small audience. This is the line of 
logic, since the finest writing appeals only to the 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 203 

finest minds, and the latter are stray blossomings 
in an oasis of respectability. It is not, in the 
circumstances, difficult to explain Mr. Roe's 
popularity. He tells a pleasant story with un- 
affected simplicity; he is always on the side of 
conservative feeling; he is eager to help men and 
women, as well as to amuse them ; he is, in short, 
the most earnest and effective representative of 
a numerous ' home gathering ' that is now writing 
in this country. Why, then, should he not be 
popular ? The bold or merely erratic genius of dis- 
tinctly literary writers might not be appreciated or 
comprehended by Mr. Roe's public. Even so 
aggressive a person as that turbulent and pyro- 
technic Frenchman, Guy de Maupassant, attacks 
criticism in a way which should be a lesson to 
Mr. Roe's least generous critics. Without any 
kind of preconception or theory M. Maupassant 
says: 'A critic should understand, distinguish, 
and explain the most opposite tendencies, the 
most contrary temperaments, and admit the most 
adverse researches of art.' On such a broad 
basis of criticism every admissible popularity 
may be fairly accounted for. 

" Mr. Roe, the man, is an exact counterpart, one 
may say, of Mr. Roe, the author. As an author, 
in the first place, he is remarkably candid. He 
has been so candid, indeed, that the tendency of 



204 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

certain critics to treat him disingenuously is 
rather absurd. These critics want him to write 
books, apparently, which he does not propose to 
write; they overlook the fact that Mr. Roe has 
stated very clearly just what he desires to write. 
In a preface to one of his novels he says, in effect, 
that if his books are not beautiful works of art 
they are at least books which tender peace and 
resignation to many lives. (I am not quoting, by 
the way, but am presenting the idea which must 
have been in Mr. Roe's mind when he wrote that 
preface.) There are so many clever books pub- 
lished nowadays which pervert the young and sen- 
sitive conscience — a word not included in the 
vocabulary of our ' disagreeably ' artistic novel- 
ists — that it may be wise to accept Mr. Roe's 
novels as good morality, if not as the best 
literature. 

" It is not every author who puts himself into 
his books. Drunkards have written temperance 
tracts. Blackguards have written treatises on 
ideal existence. Posing fops have railed against 
the hardships which beset noble ambition. Mr. 
Roe has written the best that is in him for the 
best that is in thousands of men and women. I 
have tried to indicate briefly what he is as an 
author. As a man, he is not less genial, sincere, 
and agreeable than his books. The cleverest 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 205 

authors are, as a rule, far more entertaining and 
astonishing in their books than in themselves. 
In themselves, to speak the truth, they are not 
likely to be either entertaining or astonishing. 
I should look to few of them as acceptable hosts. 
Mr. Roe proved himself, and proved how good a 
host he was, on a recent Saturday afternoon, 
when some thirty or forty members of the 
Authors' Club accepted his invitation to spend a 
day at his house and grounds on the historic 
heights of Cornwall. 

"Nearly all those who accepted Mr. Roe's invi- 
tation travelled to Cornwall by water. And they 
were not a bad lot, taking them together. There 
was E. C. Stedman, for example, the most pop- 
ular writer among writers, the youngest man, 
by all odds, for his age — fuller of the exhilara- 
tion of youth than most of his juniors by twenty 
years; C. C. Buel, associate editor of the Cen- 
tury, who will soon marry Miss Snow, an adopted 
daughter (if I am not mistaken) of 'John Paul,' 
otherwise known as Mr. Webb; Mr. Webb him- 
self, wearing that contentedly placid air which he 
never seems to shake off, and always on time with 
a good story or joke; A. J. Conant, whose yarns 
are famous, and whose tall form swayed benignly 
under a huge slouch hat; Hamilton W. Mabie, 
the youthful and smiling editor of the Christian 



206 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

Union; W. L. Keese, one of the few men who 
can speak with authority on the acting of Burton ; 
Theodore L. De Vinne, recently returned from 
Europe, where he had vast trouble in keeping 
warm; W. H. Bishop, who has got beyond the 
'promising' stage in novel writing and who will 
spend his summer in France; Henry Harland 
('Sidney Luska '), as cheerful as his stories are 
sombre — just the sort of personality that does 
not repeat itself in literature; Raymond S. Per- 
rin, who is kind enough to save some of his 
friends from disaster by presenting his first pub- 
lished book — price $5 — to them; W. S. Walsh, 
close shaven as a priest, and editor of Lippin- 
cotf s ; Noah Brooks, once upon a time presiding 
genius of the Lotus Club, and the author of several 
charming books for boys; Edward Carey, asso- 
ciate editor of the New York Times; Leonard 
Kip, Albert Matthews, John H. Boner, R. R. 
Bowker, and several representatives of the Cen- 
tury's staff. 

" When this crowd of writers — numbering about 
thirty in all — reached Mr. Roe's home, they 
found Richard Henry Stoddard and Julian Haw- 
thorne installed there. Mr. Stoddard may now 
be classed properly among our 'venerable' poets, 
although he enjoys excellent health and gets 
through an immense amount of work. Haw- 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 207 

thorne, in a flannel shirt, with a soft red tennis 
cap on his handsome head, was by far the most 
picturesque figure of the group. As to the host, 
Mr. Roe, he is a man of somewhat striking pres- 
ence. He is of medium height, strongly built, 
with a gravely pleasant and intelligent face; his 
dark hair is brushed off a high forehead, his beard 
and mustache are long and black ; he has kindly 
gray eyes, and his manner is that of a man who 
has spent the greater part of his life in the atmos- 
phere of home. To do good, to help others — 
that appears to be his earnest ambition. The 
notes of religion and morality dominate the note 
of literature in him. In fact, he is much less an 
author than a teacher. Once he preached from 
the church pulpit, now he preaches through his 
books, and he finds the latter method far more 
profitable, at least, than the former. 

" Mr. Roe does not confine himself, however, to 
the making of such books as please the great 
Philistine class. He is an authority on the culti- 
vation of small fruits and flowers. What he has 
written upon this interesting subject possesses 
scientific value. Upon his grounds at Cornwall 
he raises some beautiful specimens of the rose, 
and strawberries as large and luscious as any 
found in New Jersey soil during June. The day 
selected for the authors' visit to Cornwall hap- 



208 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

pened to be at the height of the strawberry season, 
and the manner in which these usually sedate 
persons made their way to Mr. Roe's strawberry 
bushes immediately after greeting their host re- 
minded one of the skirmishing of boys in a melon 
patch. The berries, many of them with the cir- 
cumference of a young tomato, were dug remorse- 
lessly from their cool shadows, while a particularly 
hot sun poured down upon the backs of thirty 
perspiring authors. But the fruit was worthy of 
the effort used in plucking it, for Mr. Roe has 
brought strawberry culture to a rare state of per- 
fection. His berries, whether large or small, 
have a singularly sweet and delicate flavor; they 
are richly colored, and their meat is as firm as 
that of a ripe peach. 

"Mr. Roe's grounds are quite spacious, and lie 
directly under the shade of Storm King. They 
are included in the plateau of a hill, and the 
scenery round about — especially in the direction 
of the Hudson — is wonderfully varied and pictu- 
resque. Mr. Roe's father and grandfather resided 
at Cornwall, and now a fourth generation of the 
family is identified with this lovely bit of coun- 
try. The house occupied by the novelist is not 
the one built by his ancestors. It is a plain, old- 
fashioned structure, built as every similar struc- 
ture should be — with a broad, breezy hall 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 209 

running from end to end, thus dividing the lower 
part of the house into two comfortable compart- 
ments. The various rooms — and there are plenty 
of them — are neatly but not pretentiously fur- 
nished, books and pictures being their chief 
ornaments. On the top floor Mr. Roe has his 
workshop — a long, narrow, uncarpeted room, 
under a slanting roof, well ventilated, and filled 
with lazy lounges and chairs, common book- 
shelves, a large writing-desk, and a cabinet con- 
taining specimens of Hudson River birds. Mr. 
Roe's latest hobby is to collect birds and to study 
their songs. He stuffs the birds and jots down 
in a note-book brief comments upon their songs. 
He is endeavoring, especially, to make an exact 
list of the time — to the fraction of a second — at 
which each bird begins to sing in the early dawn. 
1 1 like to get my facts from nature,' he said to 
me, ' not from other men's books.' 

" Mr. Roe is one of the most hospitable of men, 
a fact which his thirty author-friends would have 
discovered if they had not known that it was a 
fact. A day seldom goes by that does not bring 
him a visitor who receives a royal welcome; a 
night seldom passes that does not find occupants 
for his spare rooms. Whoever takes the trouble 
to call upon him he is glad enough to see. If his 
half-million readers could call upon him simul- 

14 



2IO LAST BOOK — DEATH 

taneously they would be led cheerfully to the 
strawberry patch. Authors may thrive on the 
stones of a city because they must; but the ideal 
home for an author is that of E. J\ Roe at 
Cornwall. 

"George Edgar Montgomery." 

" It was on one of the most delightful days of 
last month that Mr. Roe received in an informal 
way at his hillside home his fellow-craftsmen of 
the Authors' Club of New York. 

"A rambling old house placed back from the 
road and perched upon one of the many hilltops 
that rise from the river in that most picturesque 
section known as the Highlands of the Hudson, 
Mr. Roe's home had about it that air of comfort 
and serenity that one would naturally imagine as 
the most appropriate surroundings for the author 
of ' Nature's Serial Story.' 

"Mr. Roe was so peculiarly a companionable 
man that his friends were legion, and among the 
busy workers who constitute the Authors' Club 
none were more popular than he — the busiest 
worker of them all. 

" He met us at the landing, his genial face 
speaking a welcome even before his voice was 
heard, and ' Roe ! Roe ! Roe ! ' came the greeting 
from his expectant guests ere they filed off the 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 211 

boat He saw that we were all comfortably be- 
stowed in the numerous carriages that he had in 
waiting, led the procession up the steep road that 
climbed the Cornwall hills, and standing at the 
foot of his veranda steps, welcomed each visitor 
who ' lighted down ' with his cheery smile and 
his cordial hand-clasp. He turned us loose in 
his strawberrry bed — that pet domain of one who 
had so practically shown how it was possible to 
achieve * Success with Small Fruits; ' he loaded 
us with roses — dear also to one who lived as he 
did ' Near to Nature's Heart ; ' and then with brief 
words of hospitality that were alive, hearty and 
inspiring, he bade us make free with his house 
and home for the day. That we enjoyed it, every 
action testified. Released from care and labor for 
a day, surrounded by all the attractions that make 
a June day among the Highlands doubly delight- 
ful, and made so cordially to feel ourselves at 
home, enjoyment was easy, and the day was one 
to be marked with a red letter by all whose good 
fortune it was to have been one of that merry 
party. 

"Mr. Roe's Cornwall home showed the lover 
of Nature and of his chosen profession. ' This 
has been your inspiration here, has it not ? ' I 
asked. ' Yes,' he replied, with a loving glance at 
the quiet country landscape that we overlooked 



212 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

from the broad veranda; ' here and hereabouts 
I have got very much of my material. I love 
it all.' 

"The comfortable rooms of that quaint, old- 
fashioned house had many a touch that showed 
the affection for his surroundings. 

" ' Well, Roe, ' said Stedman, ever ready with 
his apt quotations, ' this castle hath a pleasant 
seat,' and he said truly. The homelike house, 
the thrifty farm-lands, the verdant patches filled 
with fruits and flowers, and the green growths of 
the kitchen garden bespoke the man who added 
to the gentleman-farmer the practical student of 
the helpful products of the earth. 

"'Down there,' he said, indicating one portion 
of his land, ' I have planted twenty-five varieties 
of peas. I wish to test them, to study their 
quality and discover which are the best for the 
producer to raise and which have the best flavor. 
I like to make these experiments. ' 

"A bountiful spread for the sharpened appe- 
tites of those who found in that flower-laden air 
an increase of desire awaited us in the cool 
dining and reception-rooms — thrown into one to 
comfortably seat so large a company — and it was 
a question who enjoyed it most, guests or host, 
for his kindly attentions and his invitation to eat 
and spare not gave an extra sauce to the good 



LAST BOOK — DEATH 213 

things offered us. An after-dinner ride through 
the charming country thereabout, so many sec- 
tions of which had been written into his charac- 
teristic stories; a siesta-like reunion beneath the 
shade of the trees that dotted his ample lawn and 
almost embowered his home ; an oft-repeated de- 
sire that we should not go city-ward until 'the 
last train;' a quiet chat as this most delightful 
of hosts passed from group to group; the zest 
with which the pleasant-faced wife and the son 
and daughter of our host seemed to enter into his 
and our enjoyment of the day — these, and the 
many minor details of a June day's outing among 
the historic Highlands that may not find expres- 
sion here, gave to us all an experience that no 
one among us would have missed, and which each 
one of us will recall with peculiar and tender 
memories now that the good man who made them 
possible to us has dropped his unfinished work 
and left us so suddenly and so unexpectedly. 

"Elbridge S. Brooks." 

Of the many tributes to my brother's memory 
I shall here quote but two. The first is from 
Julian Hawthorne and is addressed to the Editors 
of the Critic ; the second is the resolution of sym- 
pathy sent to Mrs. Roe by the members of the 
Authors' Club. 



214 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

"You will probably be asked to find room in 
your columns for many letters from the friends 
of E. P. Roe. I apply for admission with the 
others, on the ground that none of them could 
have loved him more that I did. The telegram 
which to-day told me of his death has made my 
own life less interesting to me. He was so good 
a man that no one can take his place with those 
who knew him. It is the simple truth that he 
cared for his friends more than for himself; that 
his greatest happiness was to see others happy; 
that he would have more rejoiced in the literary 
fame of one of his friends than in any such fame 
of his own winning. All his leisure was spent 
in making plans for the pleasure and profit of 
other people. I have seen him laugh with delight 
at the success of these plans. As I write, so 
many generous, sweet, noble deeds of his throng 
in my memory, — deeds done so unobtrusively, 
delicately and heartily, — that I feel the useless- 
ness of trying to express his value and our loss. 
He was at once manly and childlike: manly in 
honor, truth, and tenderness; childlike in the 
simplicity that suspects no guile and practises 
none. He had in him that rare quality of loving 
sympathy that prompted sinners to bring their 
confessions to him, and ask help and counsel of 
him, — which he gave, and human love into the 



LAST BOOK— DEATH 21 5 

bargain. Among his million readers, thousands 
wrote to thank him for good that his books had 
awakened in their souls and stimulated in their 
lives. He knew the human heart, his own was 
so human and so great; and the vast success of 
his stories, however technical critics may have 
questioned it, was within his deserts, because it 
was based on this fact. No one could have had a 
humbler opinion of Roe's * art ' than he had: but 
an author who believes that good is stronger than 
evil, and that a sinner may turn from his wicked- 
ness and live, and who embodies these convictions 
in his stories, without a trace 'of cant or taint of 
insincerity, — such an author and man deserves a 
success infinitely wider and more permanent than 
that of the skilfulest literary mechanic: and it 
is to the credit of our nation that he has it. " 

Authors' Club, 19 West 24th Street, New York. 
January 19, 1889. 

Mrs. E. P. Roe, 

Dear Madam — I am instructed by the 
General Meeting of the Authors' Club to com- 
municate to you the following minute of a 
resolution that was then adopted. It runs as 
follows: — 

" On motion of Mr. E. C. Stedman it is unani- 
mously resolved that by the death of Mr. E. P. 
Roe this club has lost a member who was en- 



2l6 LAST BOOK — DEATH 

deared to his fellow-members by more than ordi- 
nary ties. His kindly disposition and charm of 
conversation and manner, his wide charity, made 
him an always welcome companion, and though 
circumstances did not admit of his frequent 
attendance at its meetings, his constant interest 
in the club was evinced by numerous attentions 
which showed that he was present in spirit if not 
in person. 

"This club recalls with a sense of sorrowful 
satisfaction that the last act of the late Mr. Roe 
in connection with the club was the generous en- 
tertainment of its members by himself and his 
wife, a few weeks before his death, at his home 
at Cornwall-on-the-Hudson, an event which will 
ever dwell in the grateful remembrance of those 
who were present on the occasion, and in scarcely 
a less degree of those members who were unable 
to avail themselves of the privilege. 

"At its Annual Meeting this club desires to 
assure Mrs. Roe and the members of her family 
of its sincere sympathy with her in the bereave- 
ment which she has sustained, to convey to her 
its grateful acknowledgment of the abundant hos- 
pitality she exercised toward the club on the occa- 
sion of its visit to her home last June, and to 
thank her for her generous gift of an admirable 
portrait of her late husband. " 



LAST BOOK -DEATH 2\J 

I have the honor to be, Madam, with great 
respect, 

Your faithful servant, 

A. B. Starey, 

Secretary Authors' Club. 



CHAPTER XIV 

AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 

A FEW more pages will be given to an account 
of the circumstances under which my 
brother's books were written, including mention 
of some incidents which suggested the stories. 

His first novel was "Barriers Burned Away." 
Speaking of this venture he said at one time : — " I 
did not take up the writing of fiction as a means 
of livelihood, nor to gratify ambition. When I 
heard the news of the great fire in Chicago I had 
a passionate desire to see its houseless, homeless 
condition, and spent several days among the 
ruins and people, who found refuge wherever they 
could. I wandered around night and day, taking 
notes of all I saw, and there the plot of my story 
was vaguely formed." 

When Edward had written about eight chapters 
of this book, as has been said, he read them to 
Dr. Field and his associate editor, Mr. J. H. Dey. 
He would not have been greatly surprised had 
they advised his throwing the manuscript into the 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROES BOOKS 219 

burning grate before them, but, instead, they 
requested him to leave it with them for serial pub- 
lication in The Evangelist. 

In the intervals of his busy life at Highland 
Falls the story grew into fifty-two chapters. He 
wrote when and where he could, — on steamboats 
and trains as well as in his study, — the manu- 
script often being only a few pages ahead of its 
publication. His characters took full possession 
of his imagination and were very real to him. 

The serial continued for a year. The next 
thing was to secure a publisher for the book. 
Mr. Dodd, senior member of the firm of Dodd, 
Mead, and Company, said once when questioned 
in reference to this subject : — " Mr. Roe brought 
his manuscript to us one day. We read it and 
made him an offer. At that time we looked 
upon the venture as purely experimental. Mr. 
Roe accepted our offer, and we announced the 
book. In a short time letters began to pour in 
upon us from people who had seen our announce- 
ment, and had also read as much of the story as 
had appeared in The Evangelist, asking when the 
book would be published. These letters were 
the first indication we had of the story's popu- 
larity, but they were very good evidence of it. 
An edition was issued; the book sold rapidly, and 
the sale since has been large and continuous." 



220 AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 

"How about your original contract with Mr. 
Roe?" 

"Well, as a matter of fact," said Mr. Dodd, 
" the original contract was destroyed and another 
made on a different basis by which Mr. Roe is 
largely the gainer. From that time we have pub- 
lished everything that he has written, and our rela- 
tions have always been very pleasant and close." 

"What is his most popular work? " 

" ' Barriers Burned Away ' has had the largest 
sale. ' Without a Home ' stands second on the list, 
and, considering the fact that it was published ten 
years later, is most popular. * Opening of a 
Chestnut Burr' comes next; * Near to Nature's 
Heart ' has had a very large sale, and the others 
follow closely. There is not one of his novels 
that has not had a wide circulation." 

" Have you any idea of the extent to which his 
books have been sold abroad ? " 

"All have been published in England and the 
colonies. Mr. Roe has in almost every instance 
arranged with English publishers for an author- 
ized edition from advance sheets, and received 
compensation. His stories are also translated 
into German and French. " 

"Barriers" was first published in 1872. It is 
reverently dedicated to the memory of the 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 221 

author's mother, and his own words as to how it 
came to be written have already been quoted. 
Many letters were received from young men 
acknowledging the helpfulness of this book. 

"Play and Profit in My Garden " was Edward's 
first book on horticulture. It was written in 
1873 at Highland Falls, and was published serially 
in The Christian Union, then edited by Dr. 
Lyman Abbott. Reviewing the book just two 
years before his death, he claimed that he put 
into it more of his personality than into any of 
his other works. 

It is a garden story of his own experience. The 
sandy knoll around the little country parsonage 
upon which grew only a vine or two, a few cherry 
trees and some common currant bushes, served as 
a beginning in this gardening venture. To that 
was added a small tract of adjoining land which 
was rented from a neighbor, making but two acres 
in all, yet the profits from this ground for one 
season alone amounted to two thousand dollars. 

In this book he tells how his garden was 
stocked first with plants from the old home place, 
and how they brought back the sweet associations 
of his childhood. He speaks, too, of his pleasure 
in selecting new varieties for trial from the gor- 
geously illustrated catalogues that he received. 

" What Can She Do ? " was written the same 



222 AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 

year. Since that time numberless women have 
learned through the fortunes or misfortunes of 
life to solve this problem for themselves, but this 
book has found a place in many homes and by its 
influence has led young girls to be more helpful 
in the family circle as well as in the wider social 
spheres in which they move. 

" Opening of a Chestnut Burr" (1874) suggested 
itself to Edward's mind while taking a walk one 
autumn along a wood-road on the grounds of the 
old homestead. Several of the characters are 
drawn from life, representing some eccentric 
people who lived near us in our childhood. In a 
"well-meanin' " man, "Daddy Inggar," we have a 
perfect picture of an old neighbor whom we 
children called "Daddy Liscomb." He lived in 
a little house opposite one of our father's apple 
orchards, and no watch-dog could have been more 
faithful than was this old man in guarding our 
fruit from the depredations of factory boys. He 
was very profane, more in his last years from 
habit, however, than from intentional irreverence, 
and sometimes when the Methodist clergyman 
was offering prayer in his home a sudden twinge 
of rheumatism would call forth a perfect volley 
of oaths, for which he would immediately after- 
ward make most humble apologies. This book 
Edward dedicated to his wife. 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 223 

"From Jest to Earnest" (1875) is dedicated to 
Edward's schoolmate and college friend, Rev. A. 
Moss Merwin. The story is nearly altogether 
imaginary, but was suggested by an actual house- 
party and the position of a clever hostess who 
was embarrassed by the necessity for making 
the best of an unwelcome guest. 

" Near to Nature's Heart " was written at Corn- 
wall and published in 1876 — the Centennial year. 
It is a Revolutionary story, and the scene is laid 
near West Point. " Captain Molly " is of course 
historical, as is also the Robin Hood of the 
Highlands, "Claudius Smith." But most of 
the incidents of the story, as well as the lead- 
ing characters, are imaginary. 

A few years ago I met at a seashore resort in 
Massachusetts a cultured gentleman who held a 
high position in an educational institution in that 
State. He told me that his only child, Vera, was 
named from the heroine of "Near to Nature's 
Heart." He had read all of my brother's books, 
but particularly enjoyed this one. And while in 
California making a trip to some of the high 
mountain passes of the State I met a young couple 
living in a lonely canon, miles from any town, 
whose year-old baby was called Amy, in honor, 
they said, of the heroine of "Nature's Serial 
Story." They had no knowledge of my relation- 
ship to the author of the book. 



224 AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROES BOOKS 

"A Knight of the Nineteenth Century" 

(1877) was reverently dedicated to the memory of 

the writer's father. These lines form the 

preface : — 

" He best deserves a knightly crest 
Who slays the evils that infest 
His soul within. If victor here, 
He soon will find a wider sphere. 
The world is cold to him who pleads ; 
The world bows low to knightly deeds." 

Soon after this book was offered for sale upon 
the railroad trains, a young man, who had tired of 
the humdrum duties of his home, started West to 
seek adventure in the excitements of mining life. 
He bought a copy, read it, and was so impressed 
by the writer's picture of true knightly deeds that 
he abandoned his purpose and returned to take 
up the obligations he had cast aside. 

"A Face Illumined " (1878). A beautiful, but 
discordant, face once seen at a concert-garden 
suggested the title and plot of this book. It 
interested Edward to imagine what such a counte- 
nance could express under the ennobling influence 
of a pure Christian life. He says in his preface: 
— " The old garden and the aged man who grew 
young in it are not creations, but sacred memo- 
ries. " It was our father who was constantly in 
the writer's mind as he rehearsed the conversa- 
tions with Mr. Eltinge, and the enormous silver 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 225 

poplar that shaded the old man's front gate, the 
tool-house and pear tree, and the brook in which 
" Ida Mayhew " bathed her tear-stained face, were 
all drawn from originals. 

"Without a Home" (1881). This book was 
announced two years before it was completed, for 
my brother studied with great care and patience 
the problems upon which it touches. He visited 
scores of tenements and station-houses, and sat 
day after day upon the bench with police judges. 
He also talked with many of the proprietors of 
city stores and with their employees, and his in- 
dignation was aroused when he found that in most 
of these establishments saleswomen were com- 
pelled to stand throughout the hot summer days, 
no provision being made for even an occasional 
rest. In regard to the victim of the opium habit 
in this story, he said once, " I felt from the first 
that Mr. Joselyn was going to ruin and I could 
not stop him, and suffered much with him. I 
also felt the death of his daughter almost as much 
as if she had been a member of my own family." 

" Success with Small Fruits" (1881). "Dedi- 
cated to Mr. Charles Downing, a neighbor, 
friend, and horticulturist from whom I shall 
esteem it a privilege to learn in coming years, as 
I have in the past." Chapters from this book, 
appropriately illustrated, first appeared serially 

15 



226 AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE S BOOKS 

in Scribner s Magazine. But the larger scope 
which the book afforded gave Edward opportunity 
to treat the various topics more in detail. He 
gives many practical suggestions for the benefit 
of those who are interested in this subject. 
Nevertheless, the book is not a mere manual 
upon the culture of small fruits. It is happily 
written, and much quiet humor is to be found in 
its pages. To quote a brief example : — "In 
April the bees will prove to you that honey may 
be gathered even from a gooseberry bush. In- 
deed, gooseberries are like some ladies that we 
all know. In their young and blossoming days 
they are sweet and pink-hued, and then they grow 
acid, pale, and hard ; but in the ripening experi- 
ence of later life they become sweet again. Be- 
fore they drop from their places the bees come 
back for honey, and find it. " 

Whatever may be the opinion of critics in 
regard to my brother's fiction, his works on horti- 
culture are of unquestioned authority; they em- 
body the results of carefully tested personal 
experiments, and for this reason have their value. 
In this book are given practical directions and 
advice that gardeners have told me were of im- 
mense service to them. 

" A Day of Fate " (1880). This is a quiet love- 
story of a summer sojourn in the Highlands. 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE S BOOKS 227 

"His Sombre Rivals: A Story of the Civil 
War " (1883). In the preface he says : " The stern 
and prolonged conflict taught mutual respect. 
The men of the North were convinced that they 
fought Americans, and that the people on both 
sides were sincere and honest." 

The Battle of Bull Run is simply a suggested 
picture, and the other war scenes are colored by 
the writer's own reminiscences; but concerning 
all technical details he consulted military men. 

"A Young Girl's Wooing" (1884). Another 
short love-story, with the scene laid in the. Cats- 
kills, where it was written. 

"Nature's Serial Story" was also published in 
1884, but Edward had been for several years 
making studies for it, at each season carefully 
noting his observations. He was a great lover 
of birds and knew exactly when each species 
arrived North in the spring and just when the 
fall migrations took place. "Song," he says 
elsewhere, " is the first crop I obtain, and one of 
the best. The robins know I am a friend of 
theirs, in spite of their taste for early straw- 
berries and cherries, and when I am at work they 
are very sociable and familiar. One or two will 
light on raspberry stakes and sing and twitter 
almost as incessantly and intelligently as the 
children in their playhouse under the great oak 



228 AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 

tree. Yet the robin's first mellow whistle in 
spring is a clarion call to duty, the opening note 
of the campaign. " 

He drew directly from Nature for facts, and the 
composition of this book gave him genuine pleas- 
ure. He says : " My characters may seem shadows 
to others, but they were real to me. I meet 
them still in my walks or drives, where in fancy 
I placed them." 

"An Original Belle" (1885). The most dra- 
matic scenes in this book are those connected 
with the New York Draft Riots. Edward was in 
the city one day when the riot had reached its 
height, and personally witnessed many of the 
incidents described. Portions of the book relat- 
ing to this time were submitted to the Superin- 
tendent of the Metropolitan police force for 
possible corrections in the statements made. 

"Driven Back to Eden." This story for chil- 
dren was published serially in St. Nicholas, in 
1885. It was lovingly dedicated to "Johnnie," 
his pet name for his youngest daughter. In it my 
brother takes a family from a narrow city flat in 
a neighborhood that was respectable, but densely 
populated, and where the children were forced to 
spend much time upon the streets with very unde- 
sirable companions, to a simple country home, 
surrounded by garden, fields, and woods. Here 



AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. ROE'S BOOKS 229 

they enjoy the ideal outdoor life — perhaps as 
near that of the original " Eden " as can be imag- 
ined. Edward places these children among the 
scenes of his own boyhood and writes of experi- 
ences that are fictitious only in detail and 
characters. 

"He Fell in Love with His Wife" (1886). A 
chance item in a newspaper relative to a man who 
had married in order to secure a competent house- 
keeper suggested this story, in which the hero 
tries a similar experiment. 

"The Home Acre " (1887) first appeared serially 
in Harper s Magazine. It dwells upon the advan- 
tages and pleasures of country life, which is 
particularly recommended for business men as 
affording rest and diversion of thought after con- 
tinuous mental strain. Practical hints are given 
as to the kind of trees to plant and how to plant 
them, also as to the proper cultivation of vine- 
yards, orchards and the small fruits. He urges 
the advisability of teaching every boy and girl in 
the public schools to recognize and protect certain 
insects, toads, and harmless snakes that are of 
incalculable value in the culture of plants and 
fruits because of the warfare they wage against 
the enemies of vegetable life. 

"The Earth Trembled" (1887) was written 
while at Santa Barbara ; but, as in the case of the 



23O AN ACCOUNT OF E. P. 

Chicago fire, Edward went to Charleston before 
the effects of the earthquake had been removed, 
and saw the state of the city and its inhabitants 
for himself. I have been told by people who 
lived there at the time that my brother's descrip- 
tions of the dreadful calamity are very accurate. 

"Miss Lou" (1888) was my brother's last book 
and was left unfinished by his sudden death. 
The inscription reads: — "In loving dedication 
to i little Miss Lou,' my youngest daughter." 



CHAPTER XV 

THE TABLET AND MEMORIAL ADDRESS 

ON May 30th, Decoration Day of 1894, 
Edward's family and many of his friends 
were invited by the citizens of Cornwall-on-the- 
Hudson to be present at the dedication of a 
Memorial Park to be known as Roe Park, a 
wild spot in the rear of his home where he had 
been accustomed to go for recreation when his 
day's task was done. 

Here a bronze tablet was placed upon one of 
the huge bowlders upon which he and his friends 
had often sat and rested after their long rambles. 

Two of his friends, who then came from a dis- 
tance to honor his memory, have since joined him 
in the higher mansions — Rev. Dr. Teal, of 
Elizabeth, New Jersey, who began his ministry 
at Cornwall, and was for twenty years my 
brother's intimate friend; and Mr. Hamilton 
Gibson. Both of these men were stricken down 
suddenly, as was my brother. 

I cannot close these reminiscences better than 
by quoting from Dr. Lyman Abbott's eloquent 



232 THE TABLET AND MEMORIAL ADDRESS 

Memorial Address, given that day upon my 
brother's work as a writer. 



" It is of the latter aspect of his life I wish to 
speak for a few moments only, in an endeavor to 
interpret his service to the great American 
people by his pen through literature. The chief 
function of the imagination is to enable us to 
realize actual scenes with which we are not 
familiar. This is an important service. It is 
well that you who live in these quiet and peace- 
ful scenes should know what is the wretchedness 
of some of your fellow beings in the slums of New 
York. It is well that your sympathies should be 
broadened and deepened, and that you should 
know the sorrow, the struggle that goes on in 
those less favored homes. But this is not the 
only function of the imagination, nor its highest 
nor most important function. It gives us enjoy- 
ment by taking us on its wings and flying with 
us away from lives which otherwise would be 
prosaic, dull, commonplace, lives of dull rou- 
tine and drudgery. But this also is not the only 
nor the highest use ; God has given us imagina- 
tion in order that we may have noble ideals set 
before us, and yet ideals so linked to actual life 
that they shall become inseparable. He has 
given us imagination that we may see what we 












TABLET ON BOULDER IN "ROE PARK. 



THE TABLET AND MEMORIAL ADDRESS 233 

may hope for, what we may endeavor to achieve 
— that we may be imbued with a nobler inspira- 
tion, a higher hope, and a more loving, enduring 
patience and perseverance. Realism, which uses 
imagination only to depict the actual, is not the 
highest form of fiction. Romanticism, which 
uses the imagination only to depict what is for us 
the unreal and impossible, is not the highest 
form of fiction. That fiction is the highest which 
by the imagination makes real to our thought the 
common affairs of life, and yet so blends them 
with noble ideals that we are able to go back 
into life with a larger, a nobler, and a more 
perfect faith. 

"Now Mr. Roe's fiction has been very severely 
criticised, but it has been universally read. 
For myself I would rather minister to the higher 
life of ten thousand people than win the plaudits 
of one self-appointed critic. And his novels 
have been universally read because they have 
uniformly ministered to the higher life of the 
readers. He has ministered to the life not of ten 
thousand, or of one hundred thousand, but of 
thousands of thousands, for his readers in this 
country alone are numbered by the millions. 
And I venture to say that no man, woman, or 
child ever read through one of Mr. Roe's books 
and arose without being bettered by the reading, 



234 THE TABLET AND MEMORIAL ADDRESS 

without having a clearer faith, a brighter hope, 
and a deeper and richer love for his fellow man. 
In one sense he was a realist. He made careful 
and painstaking study of all the events which he 
attempted to describe. . . . He was not a mere 
photographer. He saw the grandeur that there is 
in life. He felt the heart that beats in a woman's 
bosom and the heart that beats in a soldier's 
breast. He felt it because his own heart had 
known the purity of womanhood and the courage 
of manhood. He portrayed something of that 
purity, something of that courage, something of 
that divine manhood, because he possessed the 
qualities that made him a hero on the battlefield, 
and so made him a preacher of heroism in human 
life. This is the man we have come here to 
honor to-day; the man who by his imagination 
linked the real and the ideal together; the man 
who has enabled thousands of men and women of 
more prosaic nature than himself to see the beauty 
and the truth — in one word, the divinity — that 
there is in human life. 

" It is fitting that you should have chosen a 
rural scene like this as a monument to his name; 
for he may be described by the title of one of his 
books, as the one who lived near to nature's heart. 
He loved these rocks, these hills. It is fitting 
that you should have left these woods as nature 



THE TABLET AND MEMORIAL ADDRESS 235 

made them. He cared more for the wild bird of 
the grove than for the caged bird of the parlor, 
more for the wild flowers than for those of the 
greenhouse, more for nature wild and rugged 
than for nature clean and shaven and dressed in 
the latest fashion of the landscape gardener. 

" It is gratifying to see so many of all ages, of 
all sects, of all classes in this community gather 
to do honor to the memory of Mr. Roe. But we, 
many as we are, are not all who are truly here. 
We stand as the representatives of the many 
thousands in this country whose hours he has 
beguiled, whose labors he has lightened, whose 
lives he has inspired, and in his name and in 
theirs we dedicate to the memory of Mr. Roe 
these rocks and trees and this rugged park and 
this memorial tablet now unveiled. Time with 
its busy hand will by and by obscure the writing; 
time will by and by fell these trees and gnaw 
away these rocks. Time may even obliterate the 
name of E. P. Roe from the memory of men ; but 
not eternity itself shall obliterate from the king- 
dom of God the inspiration to the higher, nobler 
and diviner life which he — preacher, writer, 
soldier, pastor and citizen — has left in human 
life." 



NOV 11 1899 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

mumMi 

016 256 028 1 



